Lily's Daughter
by Just Look in the Mirror
Summary: When Antonia Potter is beyond sick of futilely trying to dodge the irritating, lustful, greedy paws of Draco Malfoy, she eventually succumbs to tolerating his domineering tantrums. However, the sixth year witch comes to find that her torture might result in some fortune, as she becomes his primary source to relay his dark duties as a reluctant Death Eater (fem!Harry).
1. Antonia

Author's Note

Summary/Intro:

Much occupies the mind of Antonia Potter as she bears her sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When frustration accompanies excessive stress, she fears her mind will wander to elusive places, and with the bewildering and disgusting discovery of her highly loathed schoolyard enemy having only the most disconcerting things to assault her with, her own messy sanity and the war to handle, a part of her, at times, craves diminished senses.

Fem!Harry

Main Pairing: Antonia/Draco - in their ever-budding alliances

Angst/Drama/Romance/Adventure

*Based off of the events in _The Half-Blood Prince _onto eventual_ Deathly Hallows._

**Disclaimer: I do not own any _Harry Potter _characters, settings, traits, components, et cetera. All rights reserved to the author J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.**

*Rated M for language, adult situations, violence and sexual content.

* * *

**This chapter has been modified as of 3/29/15. No drastic changes have been made.**

* * *

**Chapter One  
_Antonia_**

She'd always study the few photos she did have of her mother.

It had helped her cope with her less than satisfactory life and the harsh living conditions in the Dursley household. From infancy, she'd been neglected by her Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, as well as having received some rather unfair treatment from her husky and avaricious cousin, Dudley.

By eight years of age, Antonia Rosemary Potter had already understood that life may not be what it is for other children as it was for her. Of course, along with the loss of both of her parents at a very early age, she'd never be gifted with much more than hand-me-down socks and perhaps a half-used coloring book that had belonged to Dudley prior would be given to her on her birthdays and on the holidays, thereby suggesting her burden on them. At least this had taught her not to be greedy with things in life, and a well-behaved child she was for this.

In her own compact cupboard below the stairs she'd enjoy spending her time alone with the five or six pictures she had of her late parents, Lily and James Potter. She wasn't exactly certain of how they died, for she'd been given numerous stories over the years. She recalled first asking her aunt about it when she was around four years old, and had been informed that they had been killed in a car accident while she was home with the babysitter. After that, her Uncle Vernon had let slip that they'd passed when a bout of chronic measles had hit them simultaneously. Then just a year earlier, they had both agreed on their 'victimization' of a terrorist attack in a local mall they were at while little Antonia was at the daycare center a ways away from the scene.

After these odd and likely false accounts she'd been told, she decided to just not mention it again. Better a secret than a ridiculous and insulting fib, she figured. She had always been a smart girl with her high grades in all of her classes, the checks being far higher than her cousin's anyway, but that didn't mean she would be treated better at home. No, she was ignored greatly in her seven years at Number 4 Privet Drive. She could only guess that it was because she was not _their _child, and that seemed to make sense in a way. She grew accustomed to her rare servings of dessert and the small portions of whatever they were having for breakfast, lunch or dinner. She had become too thin because of this, though she personally valued her trim figure over the borderline obesity her cousin was facing. As for clothing, she had gotten a box full of her mother's old dresses that she wore at her age, and they had actually fit quite well, and she also had half a closet full of discounted dresses, trousers and shirts from the local market, while Dudley was allowed crème de la crème brands and custom-made tops and coats.

She was alone for the most part at her school, just as she was at home. The few friends she did make were not allowed to come home with her, as restricted by the stern and bulky Uncle Vernon, and she wasn't given the transportation on the weekends to venture out to their homes, simply because neither of her guardians 'had the time' to waste driving her to and fro.

Nonetheless, she was getting along okay. She was thankful for her health, the nutrition she did receive, and the education. Yet, she couldn't help but yearn for the caring of her lost parents. She felt that it wasn't fair that she had been orphaned, deprived of the opportunity to feel her mother's love and her father's protectiveness. She knew nothing of either of them, for her Aunt Petunia would never speak much of them, not even of her mother, who was her aunt's younger sister.

On one particular Saturday, she was sketching, referencing one of the photos she had of her mom and dad together with their arms linked around one another and smiling valiantly at the camera, dressed in fall clothing while outside surrounded by crisp and colorful leaves. Antonia had been granted the same locks, eyes and perfect vision as her mother; the vibrant auburn color, long, silky and touched with light waves, and her eyes were large, almond shaped and a hauntingly beautiful green. She had her olive skin and perfectly shaped nose and lips. Judging the pictures, she didn't think she had any of her father's physical characteristics, so she guessed that she may have had his personality.

She had this odd scar on the right side of her forehead, just below her hairline. She saw it as a lightning bolt, personally, and thought it to be rather neat looking and unique, albeit was oblivious to how she got it. She had always kept her hair long so she could cover it up with fragments of her locks while out in public, mainly at the request of her aunt, however, for she didn't want her "reeling in negative attention" from society.

She had just finished drawing her mother on the left side of her notebook paper when she heard someone stop at her doorway. Holding an orange crayon firmly in her left hand she glanced up at her tall and slender aunt with her arms crossed and her focus on the sheet her niece was drawing on.

"Have you completed your chores?" she asked with a nearly vitriolic bite. Her sharp tone had almost sent a chill down her spine.

"Y-yes, Aunt Petunia. I have."

She nodded carelessly in turn, seemingly to scowl at the imitation of her deceased sister and her husband. Turning away to leave her be, Antonia heard her mutter under her breath, "Too perfect, she was."

Her door was closed abruptly, leaving her to herself again, just the way she preferred to be. The only kindness Aunt Petunia had showed her niece was when she'd allow her a half hour of the telly while Uncle Vernon was at work. That beside, she ruled her sister's daughter's life with a cold and corrupt finesse.

* * *

All her life so far she'd been experiencing slight yet almost overlookable personal phenomenon. From a young age she felt that she could move small objects just by concentrating on them with enough profusion, and sometimes she could even swear that she had the capability to make certain items disappear and reappear again at her mental command. She had some interesting verification for this on Dudley's eleventh birthday.

The Dursleys and their nuisance of a niece had gone to the zoo at the request of the spoilt, overweight and young majesty. A short time after the young girl had just finished her sour lemon popsicle, she spotted her cousin taunting an inhabited snake. Being an admirer of all animals, this bothered the daylights out of her.

"Leave him alone, Dudley!" she snapped at him once just feet away from the arrogant boy. He ignored her attempted assertive demand and continued to harass the large python while it was imprisoned behind a thick wall of glass. She could merely glare at him while he was leant against the transparent shield, laughing like a drunk at the poor captive that belonged out in the wild.

Antonia angrily fantasized the glass suddenly disappearing, allowing her mean cousin a plummet straight into the snake's pit—and so it happened. The next thing she knew, the large boy was stumbling over the low ledge, arms flailing, to collapse a few feet below into the murky puddle, just a short distance away from the long reptile. Unnerving pubescent screams followed that startled the young redhead enough to pull her out of her trance-like state. She imagined it, and it happened. She stared at her hands in a stupefied manner as her aunt and uncle rushed over in a panic to get their son out of the attraction.

In the meantime, the large cold-blooded creature slid out of the tank, then added to the young girl's bafflement by hissing an audible "_Tttthhhanks_". Despite the peculiarity of it all, she couldn't help but smile at him as he slithered out into freedom.

The ride home was not pleasant. While the aunt was in the back consoling her cold and drenched son in a fresh towel that was left in the trunk from their beach trip earlier that year, which of course was unattended by Antonia, her uncle was relentlessly berating her that what had happened was her fault, while she meekly argued that it "just happened" and she had nothing to do with it. That's what she wanted to believe anyway, but was that really true?

She'd be finding out for sure soon enough when her own eleventh birthday rolled around. Before that day on July 31st however, she had been continuously receiving personal letters in the mail. They were all addressed to her, but she was not allowed to see any of them. They were always burned in the fireplace or shredded to pieces.

One Sunday, when the entire home was cluttered with hoards of letters addressed to Miss Antonia Rosemary Potter of 4 Privet Drive, compliments to the parade of owls outside of their house, she had actually come close to ripping one open for herself until she was roughly taken into her large uncle's arms and lost the envelope due to his forceful grasp of it out of her feeble right hand.

Then once her birthday came along, she was lying on the dusty hardwood floor of an abandoned hut out on a small chunk of land surrounded by seawater, when she heard voluminous footsteps approaching the door while wishing herself a happy birthday in the dust of the floorboards. Suddenly, the door was thrown open by a gigantic man who had the appeal of your average lumberjack, with his burly gut and the vast amount of black facial hair that rested at his chest. He stomped in just as her guardians had rushed down the old stairs with a loaded rifle ready.

Antonia didn't feel as frightened as she probably should have been when the colossal man came her way after scoffing hard at her uncle before bending the metal of the rifle upwards to allow Vernon to shoot a portion of the roof off. A massive hand was presented before the small girl along with the introduction of the sasquatch who called himself Rubeus Hagrid, Hogwarts' gamekeeper and the Keeper of the keys.

Antonia watched in amazement as the heap of a person retorted at her uncle for multiple reasons, one being for not informing her that she was a 'witch', that they had refrained from handing her her invitation to the prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry, and those awful lies about how her parents truly lost their lives.

It was not until after this unusual man had told young Antonia that she was actually a witch, then allowing her to take that in, then leaving behind her family after much debate over her going to a school for "magic tricks and tomfoolery", that Antonia had discovered that Lily and James Potter had been murdered by a very powerful dark wizard named Voldemort. She'd been warned not to call him by his real name but rather He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named instead.

She had been spared from death thanks to her mother's protective spell cast over her before she had been killed. In result, this dark wizard had left a scar to mark his future vengeance. Though her guide had not told her that last part, for she was far too young and innocent to receive such forbidding news.

Though dumbstruck as she was by all of this, she could go along with it quite well, likely due to her age. It was only rational that an eleven year old had enough of an imagination left to believe in such things as magic when the evidence is clearly displayed, as she got to see once traveling through Diagon Alley. All the levitation and sights that could imply legitimate witchcraft was verifiable enough for her young mind.

And so she met Mr. Ollivander, who after giving a show of how she looked just like her mother, then assisted her in depicting what type of wand she'd be possessing. After going through an array of them, and nearly bringing down the entirety of the shop in the process, she was given a willow and phoenix feather wand, ten and ⅓ inches in length, similar to the one prescribed to her mother, in fact.

"Yer gonna need a pet tuh bring wit ya to Hogwarts, ya know," chimed the huge man beside her as they stopped by multiple pet shops.

"You are allowed to bring pets?" she asked quizzically.

"Yup, yer allowed a cat, toad or an owl, Anton-ya. Let's 'ave a look inside, shall we?"

Excitedly, she led the way into a shop filled with owls called Eeylops Owl Emporium. Once inside, she almost immediately fell for a pure white owl with bold yellow eyes. She lifted the cage with the owl inside and looked pleadingly at Hagrid. He returned a large grin her way and paid for the elegant bird before heading out to the robing shop. She decided that she'd call her new animal, who was a female as she'd discovered, Cher, after one of her favorite muggle singers.

The remainder of that day was spent meeting astounded people whom knew her already, enjoying ice cream which she'd had few times in her life, trying on school robes and meeting a rather haughty blond boy who she silently hoped she wouldn't meet again anytime soon. Then she would face a year like no other.

* * *

Her first year at a school she'd have never dreamed even existed taught her not only of mystical potions and charms, but also that she really could not trust everyone she met. The world was not such a safe place, and she did not realize this while residing full-time with the Dursleys. In fact, she believed that there was no place or people in the world worse than these people. Antonia had to learn the difficult way just how contrary her original perception was.

She was also struck by the harsh reality of having a duty. She was not the ordinary girl with futile goals that she thought she was. She was something powerful. A witch, one designated to somehow rid this whimsical world of this nefarious warlock. Though at just eleven, she couldn't quite grasp the full concept of what she was born to do.

She was sorted into the House of Gryffindor, although the choice hadn't been the Hat's first. After meeting a ginger-haired boy named Ronald Weasley on the train, she was informed of Slytherin House's reputation of bred sinners. The Hat had wished to send her to the table to the far end of her right, but she protested, however, not for the reason of Ron's statement.

That evening, she had met to rude blond boy who'd been verbal on his desire to be her friend. His words were spiced with bigotry, equaling a major turn-off on the witches part, so she dismissed him, in spite of meaning to obtain no enemies whilst here in this place where she would finally start anew. This boy had not dismissed her, however. He spat words of disdain at her back until he was called forth to be sorted into Slytherin House.

"Am I sensing some Slytherin qualities here?" the Hat did muse. "You are an ambitious little one, but perhaps not so cunning...Still, I seek great success of you in this particular House..."

Antonia contemplated this momentarily. Honestly, she didn't know enough about any of the Houses to really wish to be in a specific one nor judge any of them. Sure, this Draco Malfoy had been the first to back-up Ron's theory on the Snakes not being such nice people, but she herself was kind and had never even hurt a fly or spider...Though in her consideration, she happened to catch that rude blond boy glaring at her from his seat at his table. A taunting smirk was playing along his lips and there was what appeared to be a forced open space between him and one of his heavyset cronies. She reckoned that he purposefully made way for her possible approach. Suddenly the prospect of being in the same House as him made her feel overwhelmingly ill.

"Um...I don't think-"

"Not Slytherin, eh? I must admit your top reason is adorable enough...but don't you worry. I'll respect your privacy. Let's see where else I seek you fit...mm, you are a tricky one, Potter. Your loyal traits make you suitable for Hufflepuff, though your creativeness and intellect better line you up for Ravenclaw...and your sense of courage, subtle as it might be now, is bound to flourish in time...yes, it seems we've narrowed it down to two Houses now. Just a tick here...I'm analyzing...beautiful mind, I must say...such complexity and long-implemented geniality...Much akin to a young girl I sorted two decades ago."

The apples of her cheeks reddened.

"...You've somewhat of a tie here, young lady, but I ultimately seek you in...GRYFFINDOR!"

Just about everyone broke into wild applause, except for most of Slytherin. She beamed in satisfaction as she strode over to her designated table. Gryffindor...she didn't quite know wholesomely if it was where she belonged, but it felt right enough. In the next nine months she'd befriended fellow Griffins, Ron, a brilliant muggle-born named Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, a forgetful pureblood. She'd developed a troublesome relationship with Draco. No matter her efforts to keep his distance, he clung to her like bloodstains to satin. Her trio of pals could bark off him and his bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle, but only for so long. Luckily, her aunt, uncle and cousin had implanted a temperament of patience and steady pardoning in her, but his lingering had been a challenge to cope with in its refusal to die.

At the end of her first year she'd defeated You-Know-Who who'd been hiding on the back of Professor Quirrell's head, concealed by turban. Her victory laid in her touch of love, and essentially, that in itself.

She'd slayed the Basilisk of the Chamber of Secrets at her second year's end and stabbed Tom Marvolo Riddle's diary to an irreparable state, thereby postponing its owner's intentions for the time being.

She'd felt the blissful authentic love of family meeting her godfather, Sirius Black six weeks prior to her fourteenth birthday.

She'd witnessed the murder of a seventeen-year-old in a cemetery her fourth year.

She'd landed Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban her fifth year. She'd also spiraled into a catastrophic sadness at the loss of her godfather.

At sixteen, she could only anticipate her upcoming sixth year. The Dark Lord was back and ready to activate some terrible anarchy, and it was up to this chosen girl to bring him down.

It was mid-August, and she was seated in this muggle café with that morning's _Daily Prophet_, after leaving the Dursley houseld for the first time in weeks, Sirus' death having taken that violent a toll on her. She'd read about how she was fast becoming a controversial figure in the Wizarding world, then going on to read: _FALLEN FROM GRACE: MALFOY'S WIFE AND SON LEAVE THE TRIAL._

Pixies fluttered crazily in her belly. She grimaced, nauseated at the prospect of what wrath her complicated nemesis would wreak on her upon returning to school. She'd gotten _Father_ arrested after all. Dismally, Antonia bore in mind his evident sexual feelings for her. Yet, in this case, she was better chanced a roughening up than a kiss, but come September the first, she'd keep her mates near.

She was confronted by a cute tan fellow in his late teens who initiated some flirty compliments. Antonia was unable to return a statement, for her eyes landed on a white-bearded wizard donning turquoise cloaks and crescent spectacles outside the shop through the pristine glass. Being the prioritized girl she was, she stood from her seat in the middle of the café and promptly made her way out the doors, ignoring the hot boy's "See ya later?"

A lionhearted smile was presented for her favorite elderly wizard. "Professor." Arms wrapped around the Head of Hogwarts and the gesture was returned.

"I'm sorry to _interrupt_, Antonia, dear," he teased.

"Interrupt? Oh no, sir, you weren't-"

"Take my arm."

She gazed at him, slightly confused at his slight abruptness.

"Do as I say."

* * *

A/N: And so _her _journey begins. Thank you for checking this out. Keep in mind that future chaps will include occurrences and situations similar to those in which Harry face, but with diverse dialogue and gesticulations from Antonia. It will include details from various works of the series, as well as her own experiences when faced with friends, enemies, situations, and especially Lord Voldemort. Feedback is praised. Review, for I'd like to know anyone's opinions so far :)

-JLM


	2. One of a Kind

**Chapter Two  
****_One of a Kind_**

Shrugging, she laid her palm onto Dumbledore's cloaked forearm for not a second before she was screaming, twisting and turning every which way for the whole of three seconds before coming to a halt that nearly threw her into the pavement face-first. Her head spun like never before and she felt a slight urge to upchuck, but forced herself to keep it down.

She was taken aback to see that her headmaster was well-kempt and perfectly composed in front of her. Struggling to catch her breath, she sighed, "That...was _fun_."

"You did well. Most people vomit their first time," Dumbledore replied almost indifferently.

Once her view was properly in place, Antonia took the time to look over her surroundings. It was well into the evening at this point, and she could see houses and shops off all around her. It appeared to be a village.

"Where are we, sir?"

"Budleigh Babberton. Come, there's someone I want you to meet, Antonia."

He led the way towards a gate that stood before one of the homes. He stopped along with her once just a small ways past the opened gate and said "Wands out." She obeyed and withdrew her ten and ⅓ inch willow then warily followed Albus into the house. His wand was lit bright blue once the two entered. The house was dark and cluttered. Antonia lit her wand and took a few steps behind Albus as she followed him down a hallway to their right. She heard him whisper "_Horace_?" loudly enough for him to hear if he were in the next room. Antonia remained silent as they slowly made their way through this room and into the next. Again he quietly called his name as they carefully passed by.

Antonia paused briefly when she noticed red droplets splashing down on her face onto the _Daily Prophet _that was wrinkled and torn on the dusty floor surrounded by various household appliances. She looked up to see a large, dark and murky leak on the ceiling. Albus wiped a splotch of the odd liquid that had fallen onto her forehead and brought it under his nose, then turned around after hearing a light creak emanate from the light blue armchair against the wall in this very room. Just as the old man's wand touched the top of back cushion, a man's head sprung out, tearing through the cloth, as well as Antonia's nervous system.

"Oh hoo! Merlin's beard! No need to disfigure me, Albus," said the now deflating man who's spring riddings echoed loudly throughout the room.

"Well, I must say, you make a _very _convincing armchair, Horace," teased the gentleman in spectacles, just as his friend was adjusting himself back into what he was supposed to be.

"It's all in the upholstery. I came by the stuffing naturally. What gave me away?"

Dumbledore directed his lit wand upwards and confirmed, "Dragon's blood."

A startled look struck him along with, "Oh ho…"

"Now for introductions. Antonia, I'd like you to meet an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn. Horace, well, you _know _who this is."

His head tilted lightly in response. "Antonia Potter." A light laugh followed.

"What is with all the theatrics, Slughorn? Weren't expecting someone else, were you?"

A scoff returned his way. "I don't know what you mean—oh, alright. The death eaters have been trying to recruit me for over a year! Do you know what that's like?! I can only say no to these people _so _many times, so I've been hiding like this for over a week. The muggles who own this place are in the Canary Islands."

"Well, I think we should put it back in order for them, don't you?" Albus suggested.

With a flick of his still lit wand, Albus guided all the clutter and wreckage back to their rightful places. The broken chandelier's ornaments were elevated from the floor and strung back to the ceiling and shards from broken picture frames were fixed into one piece again. The overturned lamp was risen back against the wall and books were neatly placed back on the shelf. The sight was quite amazing to Antonia, who needed a moment to realize that the chandelier's final piece was underneath her heeled toes.

"Don't think that I don't know why you're here, Albus. The answer's still no. Absolutely, and unequivocally _no_."

No sound could be heard but a light chuckle coming from Horace for a few moments, until he looked at Antonia and said, "Look just like your mother, you do. Lily, lovely Lily. She's exceedingly bright, your mother. Even more impressive when one considers she was muggle-born."

A tad offended by this, she replied, "One of my best friend's is muggle-born. She's the most brilliant student in our year-"

"Oh! Please don't think I'm prejudiced! No, no, no, you're mother was one my absolute favorites!"

He turned his attention to the wall aside them to a gallery of photographs. "Look, there she is, right in the front."

Antonia withdrew her eyes from him and walked over to the frames.

"All mine. Each and every one. Ex students, I mean."

She saw a girl in her late teens in front of a small crowd of people alongside a younger Horace Slughorn. Her hair was long, red, straight, and parted to the side, and she was wearing a loose pink and red striped shirt and holding up a beverage along with everyone else in the photo. While her eyes wandered the other frames, she couldn't help but find it strange that the man had all these photographs set up for his claimed ephemeral stay. Meanwhile, Horace yakked away about the other moving pictures and the former students in them.

Just then, Albus returned asking if he could borrow a copy of a knitting magazine. A disgruntled expression splayed Horace's face. "Yes, of course, but you're not leaving at this moment, are you?"

"Oh, I think I know a lost cause when I see one. Regrettable, I would have considered it a great personal triumph if you had considered returning to Hogwarts. You're like my friend, Miss Potter, here. One of a kind. Well, bye bye, Horace."

And just like that, the two were outside and down the path back out towards the village. Right when Antonia was about to question her headmaster's easy desist, she heard quick and stumbling footsteps from behind the closed door, then the door opened.

"Alright! I'll do it, but I want Professor Merrythought's old office, not that dingy closet I had before. And I expect a raise. These are mad times we live in. MAD!"

Leaning in, Albus admitted "They are, indeed."

Then he continued on, humming delightfully.

…

"Sir, what was all of that about?"

"You are talented, famous and powerful. Everything Horace values. Professor Slughorn is going to try to collect you, Antonia. You would be his crowning jewel. That's why he's returning to Hogwarts, and it's _crucial _he should return."

They stopped right where they had arrived.

"Well, thanks for the introduction, sir," piped in Antonia in a purposefully fatigued tone. "Now, I suppose I should be returning back to-"

"You won't be returning to Little Whinging tonight, Antonia."

She had to raise a brow at that. "But, sir, what about Cher? And I need to pack my belongings-"

"Both, are waiting for you," he insisted, then held out his arm. Antonia gulped and reluctantly took hold of his arm, and kept her fingers crossed that she'd be able to keep that evening's tomato soup down during the ride.

* * *

"_Ugh!_"

She had apparated smack-dab into a rather large puddle out in the field at the Burrow, just a distance from the Weasley household. She trudged through the ankle-deep water, probably ruining her recently purchased three-inchers while doing so. She was luckily wearing a knee-length skirt tonight instead of the almost considered skintight Levi's.

She peered up almost lovingly at her second (or third) home as she approached the tall and wooden house. Once inside, she was immediately embraced by her three friend's and her motherly figure, Molly Weasley. She supposed that her owl's chirping had gotten the attention of all of them.

"Why didn't you let us know you were coming?" inquired Mrs. Weasley while holding her spurious daughter's cheeks.

"Oh, you see, Dumbledore just dropped me off-"

"Oh! That man! What would we do without him?"

There were smiles all around, as well as some short-lived odd behavior from Ron, while he was wiping at Hermione's cheek. As the gang looked him over with confused smirks, he excused, "Got...a bit of toothpaste…"

…

In one of the first floor's work rooms, Antonia, Hermione and Ron sat together with the patio door wide open, allowing the moonlight to flow in while a wad of that week's newspaper was burning to a crisp in between them on a small table.

"When did you get here?" Antonia asked her best female companion.

"A few days ago. Although, for a while I wasn't sure I was coming."

Shortly after Antonia shot her a confused look, Ron provided an explanation.

"Mum...sort of lost it last week. Said Ginny and I have no business going back to Hogwarts. Said it's too dangerous."

"Oh, I bet," Antonia said, almost sardonically.

"She's not alone. Even my parents, _muggles_, know something bad is happening."

"Anyway, dad stepped in and told her she was being too paranoid. Took a few days, but she came around."

"Dumbledore's got our backs. We'll all be sound with him round, you know. After I saw him fight off Voldemort like he did last spring...he's more powerful than most realize," Antonia suggested.

"There's been a lot of talk recently that...Dumbledore's gotten a bit _old_," Hermione put, almost awkwardly.

"Come now, he's only...um…"

"One hundred and fifty?...Give or take a few," Ron offered.

They all laughed unanimously, forgetting all else that threatened to wound them in time ahead.

…

Term was just several days from restarting, so Antonia, along with the rest of the trio, took the opportunity to explore Fred and George's joke shop, _Weasleys Wizard Wheezes_. Antonia was observing the racks of glowing bottles of Amortentia with Ginny and Hermione, not that any of them had true intentions of actually using the product to their own advantages, but the twin managers' believed otherwise.

"_Hello_, ladies! Love potions, eh? They really do work."

The three of them rolled their eyes as the troublesome two began teasing their younger sister of her alleged boyfriend, Dean Thomas, and she remarked that it was none of their business before walking off.

Antonia wandered the shop a little while longer with Hermione before they gathered Ron who was sneaking some over-priced merchandise into his pockets while his brothers were out of sight. They were now out on the streets of Knockturn Alley. Just as Ron had declared that he needed to make a pit stop at Flourish and Blotts for a book he had yet to pick up, out of the corner of her eye, Antonia spotted a familiar enemy through a cracked and stained glass window by one of the shops. She halted abruptly and informed Ron and Hermione. Upon closer inspection, she could see that he was with an older woman, likely his mother, she guessed. Once Draco Malfoy was stalking away, trailing behind the woman, Antonia began to follow right after him, her curiosity getting the best of her as usual.

"Antonia, let's not waste our time on him. C'mon, let's get over to Flourish and Blotts before they close-"

"Shh!" she interjected at Ron, far too determined to see what the platinum-haired Slytherin was up to to pay no mind. She chased after him from a ways behind, wary to remain unnoticed by the two ahead, while Ron and Hermione followed after her, as if they had no choice but to.

She scurried along the narrow and dank alleyway during the chase, passing a disorientated homeless man mumbling to himself along the way, though she hardly took note of him, unlike her friend's tagging along, for she had her heart set on catching up to Draco. She knew damn well that he was up to no good, for he never was.

She stopped dead in her tracks once she saw him enter the dark arts supply market, Borgin and Burkes, from where she stood feet away. She leant against the cool stone walling at the end of the alley and watched, circumspect, as Draco and his mother entered the shop. Once they were out of sight, she initiated the two Gryffindors behind her that they could get on top of the roof around the corner and inspect them from there. Reluctantly, they joined her.

"Why are we doing this? What could we possibly uncover by gandering at him from _up here_?!"

"Hush, Ronald," said Antonia tersely.

From the view below, she could see that him and his mother were looking over a large cabinet along with a few other people, though she had difficulty making out much of anything due to the ceiling boards and beams that were blocking the way. She and her friends were quick to duck down once a wolf-like man began to turn around, seeming to suspect a stranger's uninvited presence. They allowed thirty or so seconds to slip by before slowly peering back down—to see a sheet of pure blackness covering what beheld inside.

…

Draco and Antonia had had a defective relationship from their first meet in Flourish and Blotts. From the night she turned down his solicitation of friendship on chauvinistic terms, he'd ceased his efforts none, wanting her for all but a pact on companionship. On his behalf was a will to rob her heart and stomp her self-worth to a pulp of vulnerability, but thankfully, the girl did what she could in her power to flock with her friends and ignore the pureblooded prat as if he were nothing more than scum in a bathtub's drain.

"I wonder what Draco was doing with that odd looking cabinet...and all those people." Antonia paused and glanced over the two sitting across from her with befuddled expressions. She wanted to see if they were on the same page as her. "I think it was a ceremony. An initiation."

"Enough, Antonia. I know what you're thinking."

"God, he did it...I had never dreamed he'd actually..."

Ron was the most baffled here. "...One of what?"

Hermione sighed. "Antonia is under the impression that Draco Malfoy is now a death eater."

Ron scoffed, "You're barking. Why would You-Know-Who want a sod like Malfoy?"

"You have a better theory, Ron? This is typical, considering his dad is one. I mean, did he appear to be shopping around for cauldrons to you?"

"Pfft, well, he's a creepy bloke."

"It all makes sense. I suppose he just wants to make like daddy and follow up with the tradition. Go by his kin, so to speak. And Hermione, you saw it all with your own eyes."

"I don't know what I saw," she defended, only frustrating Antonia for being so indecisive.

She sighed, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress. "I need some air," she excused. She left the carriage and slid the doors shut, then made her way down towards where Draco and his crew usually sat.

Once just outside his area, she remained hidden from around the Slytherin compartment's entrance, peering at him with her left eye alone. He appeared to be putting away luggage before turning back to his seat. Grasped securely in her left hand was a chunk of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder she had recently purchased from the twins' joke shop. She would use this to gain her quick access into Draco's luggage space unnoticed. She would have to act quick, however, for the effects did not last long.

She was fast to throw her distraction into the air—immediately darkening the entirety of this boxcar. She quickly slipped on her invisibility cloak and managed to squeeze past Draco who was still on his feet in the middle of the pathway, demanding to know what was going on.

Antonia stepped onto Draco's empty seat once at his table and grabbed onto the ledge of the storage rack above and hoisted herself onto it. She then laid on her side and brought her knees up to her chest, struggling to make herself at least slightly comfortable on this small, holey and lumpy-surfaced space. She made sure that her cloak was wrapped all around her so as to prevent anyone, especially Draco, from seeing her. All that could be seen from their view below was a suitcase, merely resting atop the shelf over them. She would have to remain perfectly inert for quite some time. Another minute passed by before the thick, gray cloudy air had cleared up. Pansy Parkinson had called for Draco to return to his seat, and he did so with lingering suspicion. Antonia shifted slightly and stilled herself to listen in closely to the conversation below her.

"Hogwarts. What a pathetic excuse for a school. I think I'd pitch myself off the astronomy tower if I thought I had to continue there for another two years," Draco stated coldly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" his supposed girlfriend asked, not being alone on the confusion.

"Let's just say I won't be wasting my time in charms class next year."

After he complied this, his fellow Slytherin acquaintance across him began to chortle. Draco's expression went grim and his mood grew even more contempt.

"Amused Blaise? We'll see just who's laughing in the end."

…

The rest of the trip was silent for the most part. All she could make out were some details of Blaise's summer, and nothing from Draco. As a couple hours ticked on, she was on the brink of falling asleep, despite her rather discomforting position on this shelf. She forced her eyes open once she heard the train come to a screeching halt. They had arrived.

She kept still even as she saw the students getting off. She had to ensure Draco was not going to see her. Through her cloak, she watched everyone else gather their belongings and leave, except for Draco, who just sat where he was, as if he had no plans of going. Once this compartment was empty minus the two of them, she heard him tell his friend's that he needed to check something. Horror struck her like a ravenous lion on its prey. _Christ_. He knew something was up.

She gazed at him in pure terror as he shut the door and then closed the curtain, along with the rest of the curtains on board with a flick of his wand. She could hear her heart pound away in her chest and she could hardly control her frantic breathing. Had he really known? How did he, if so? She thought to retract her wand and disarm him before he had the chance to strike her, until she recalled that she had stupidly left her wand inside of her suitcase. She was completely defenseless.

"Didn't your mummy ever tell you that it is rude to eavesdrop, _Potter_?"

Before she could even attempt to make a quick escape, a precise "Petrificus Totalus!" hit her ears as well as her entire body. The next thing she knew, her body was thrown off the shelf and onto the hard, carpeted floor. Her arms and legs were bound together, and her neck was stiff. She couldn't move her eyes, lips, toes, fingers or anything. She was spelled completely immobile.

She could only watch as Draco almost cautiously made his way over to her. He then removed her cloak in one swift motion and stared predatorily down at the vulnerable girl. She felt her face burn in spite of embarrassment over anger, for her dark violet knee-length dress had worked its way above her waist, and her black panties were well-displayed. As if that wasn't bad enough, her attire had shifted enough to reveal a decent amount of cleavage. She could tell he was enjoying the view from his stance over her. She fought with all her might to move even a fraction of an inch, but had no avail. She could have sworn her stomach took a literal flip within her when he lowered himself down onto her.

Straddling her waist, he glared at her neckline while teasing, "Oh yeah. She was dead before you could wipe the drool off your chin."

She screamed obscenities in her head and audibly whimpered as he pervasively groped each clothed breast, running his fingers along the exposed valley of her breasts, taunting her for his own sick pleasure. The worst didn't arrive until he lowered himself further to meet his lips with hers. She writhed internally as he hungrily ran his mouth along her motionless lips in a cruel show of affection. Her lips were just barely ajar when she was struck by the body binding curse, but they were enough to allow him to skim his tongue along them and briefly penetrate his tongue into her mouth. He had his share of temporary merriment before breaking off the kiss and grabbing a handful of her hair and tugging profusely.

"So fucking beautiful. Bloody hell, it's _almost _a shame that I have to do this."

She saw and felt his clenched right fist swing at her nose with much force and velocity. His punch was certainly vigorous enough to break it, and there was that cringe-worthy snap that confirmed its damage. She yelped out as he did it, and he felt not even a hint of remorse.

He stood from his place on her lap and took a step back. Grabbing her cloak, he sneered, "Enjoy your trip back to London, _sweetheart_." Her garment fell over her, making her undetectable to the naked eye again. Again, she could only ogle at him as he strayed over to the exit, threw the door open and slammed it shut behind him.

This was going to be one hell of a year.

* * *

A/N:

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights go to JK Rowling and Warner Bros._

Thank you for checking out chapter two. Language and adult themes will intensify as the story progresses, though I will add a *warning* at the start of a chapter containing sensitive material. Feedback would be gladly accepted. This is my first fiction for Harry Potter so I'd like to know what you all think :)

-JLM


	3. Liquid Luck

**Chapter Three  
_Liquid Luck_**

"Finite!"

Her cloak was lifted off of her and she was free to move her limbs. To her left was her good Ravenclaw friend, Luna Lovegood, in a fuchsia coat with unique and colorful eyewear on. She'd wandered into this compartment for some odd, albeit fortuitous reason.

"Luna! Oh thank God! How did you see me?" Antonia blurted enthusiastically.

Luna gracefully removed her wacky spectacles and chimed, "Wrackspurts. Your head is full of them."

Panting lightly, she rose to her feet, aching from the fall. Disgust consumed her once she was hit with the realization that Draco Malfoy had his tongue in her mouth. She felt an immense urge to upchuck at the memory. She would need to get ahold of some mouthwash very soon.

…

Approaching the gateway, Antonia apologized to Luna for making her miss the carriages. Luna was easy to turn the other cheek, however.

"That's alright. It was like being with a friend."

Mildly offended, Antonia replied, "I _am _your friend, Luna."

"That's nice."

Antonia's hurt feelings were washed away once she was in contact with Professor Flitwick.

"It's about time! I've been looking all over for you two!" he scolded from a few feet below. "Names?"

With raised eyebrows, Antonia said, "Professor Flitwick, you've known me for five years."

He scowled. "No exceptions, Miss Potter."

"Who are those people over there?" Luna asked.

"Aurors. Security," the small music instructor answered blandly.

From the distance, Draco could be seen with the caretaker, Argus Filch, over by a pile of suitcases and luggage. They were heard arguing while the gates were closing behind them. Just as Draco had called Filch a cretin for mistaking a walking stick for a cane, Professor Severus Snape strolled into the scene and informed Filch that _he _could vouch for Mr. Malfoy.

This raised Antonia's suspicions sky-high.

"Why does _he _get off free?" mustered Antonia silently, just before she was seen by the distant two, who both looked to be studying her like she was a final.

To add to her already vehement loathe for this blond, pointed-faced Slytherin, Draco hollered, "Nice face, Potter!" her way, before him and Snape stormed off towards the castle.

After Antonia fruitlessly raised her middle finger at his far-off turned back, Luna offered, "Would you like me to fix it for you?"

"Well, um, have you ever fixed a nose before?" Antonia asked cautiously.

"No...but I've done several different toes. How different are they, really?"

Antonia made a quick and superficial consideration at that, really too desperate to have her bruised and crooked nose fixed to be dubious about _who_ fixes it and _how_ it's done. "Sure. Just...make it fast, please."

She watched, anticipating, as the eccentric fifth year girl raised her wand to her throbbing yet numb nose. She inadvertently yelled out once it was snapped back into place with the episkey spell. She brought her right hand up to her nose and moved it around. She had healed it wonderfully.

"How do I look?" she asked, bringing her chin up and wriggling her nose pretentiously for Luna.

"Exceptionally ordinary," Luna relied simply, as she began to head for the entrance.

…

"What happened to your face?!" Hermione asked with great concern as Antonia as she took a seat at their table next to Ginny. Blood was lightly trailing out of each nostril and she had to constantly wipe it away with her blood-soaked cloth.

"Malfoy," she answered hotly. She absorbed all her friends' shocked expressions before continuing, "Used the body binding curse on me...then he punched me...Luna found me...I'll explain the rest later." She decided to exclude the details on her forced violation of lip-thrashing with the suspected newly initiated Dark Lord follower.

She wanted to rid their sympathy for her and asked them what she had missed. Ron explained that they were all reminded by the Sorting Hat to be brave and strong in these troubled times. Then he went on to scoff that it was easy for it to say since it was a mere hat. Antonia strongly agreed. Oh, what she'd give to be inanimate for a day.

At that moment, Headmaster Dumbledore was at the stand, ready to welcome the students before him. "Very best of evenings to you all. First off, let me introduce the newest member of our staff, Horace Slughorn."

Clapping ensued from all around the room, except from the Slytherin's Table, for they were rare to be seen giving damns for occasions like this.

"Professor Slughorn has agreed to resume his old post as Potions Master. Meanwhile, the post for Defense Against the Dark Arts will be taken by Professor Snape." Subtle applause commenced, and the Gryffindors were especially quiet with his annunciation this time. "Now as you know, each and every one of you was searched upon your arrival here tonight, and you have the right to know why. Once, there was a young man, like you, who sat in this very hall, walked through this castle's corridors, stepped under its roof. He seemed to all the world, a student, like any other. His name...Tom Riddle."

The room filled with gasps and whispers of angst before he continued on. "Today, of course, he's known to all of the world by another name, which is why when I stand looking out upon you all tonight, I'm reminded of a sobering fact. Everyday, every hour, this very minute perhaps, dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle's walls, but in the end, their greatest weapon, is _you_. There's something to think about...Now, off to bed, pip pip."

…

Exiting the Great Hall, Hermione had taken note of Antonia's lack of proper school attire, for she was still in her dark purple dress, only donning a baggy green jacket over it.

"Why aren't you in your robes?"

Still blotting at her relentlessly bleeding nostrils, she deadpanned "I found it a tad unnecessary, 'Mione. We're off to bed in like ten minutes."

"Yes, but you know it is _required_, Antonia."

Antonia laughed. "A bona fide player of the rules, you are. I've always admired that about you."

"Are you _at least_ going to tell me the rest of what happened?"

"Oh, what? The train incident? Believe me, I'd hate to relive the experience…"

"Well, how are you holding up with...erm, the loss?"

A twinge of lachrymose flowed through her system at the thought of his death. She had found Sirius Black to be the greatest role model she would ever have, even bypassing Albus and Hagrid. His murder had really taken a toll on her mental state, throwing her into a deep depression all summer long.

"Fine, I suppose," she lied. In truth, she had spent the whole of her vacation locked in her bedroom at the Dursley's, downing bottle after bottle of all the vodka and chardonnay she could obtain. Anything to ease the pain, and fade the memory. She had also taken up a habit to sneaking her Uncle Vernon's cigars from the compartments in both the garage and Vernon's 1988 Volkswagen. She giggled at the memory of watching Dudley bear the blame for his missing tobacco.

"I-I had been crying, for the most part," Antonia added just before they reached the Gryffindors' common room.

"I'm terribly sorry, Antonia." Her mien was one of sorrow, similar to Antonia's. "Abstinence baubles dilligrout tapeworm quid agis."

Again, another complicated and peculiar password for the Fat Lady to hear before the two Gryffindors were allowed access into their dorm. The portrait swung open and the two stepped in. The common area was full of students from all years, and it appeared that none of them had any plans of going to bed yet. Though it was only 9:40 at night, Antonia was quite enervated from her ordeal that day. The assault back on the Express was the particular culprit for her lack of energy. She told Hermione to have fun with the others, and that she was going to shower and get to bed early.

…

She scrubbed diligently at herself in an attempt to rid all that remained of Draco's perverse touch. She shuddered at the memory of his large and rough hands grasping her breasts, and his long and slender fingers dragging themselves along her cleavage. His lips were so dry and his mouth had an abiding taste of firewhiskey to it. Her blood boiled and her mood switched to one of pure rage at the memory of being so impotent. She could do absolutely nothing but lay paralyzed as he did with her as he so felt.

She felt ashamed that he was the first one to have touched her in such a way. Yes, Antonia was purely virgin. She had been properly kissed just once by a Ravenclaw student in her year and a member of her formerly activated Dumbledore's Army, Anthony Goldstein. Though, her relationship with him was very short-lived, simply for her lack of romantic interest in him. She was escorted by Seamus Finnigan to the Yule Ball her fourth year, and of course they never carried out anything more than their platonic relationship, despite Seamus' openness for dating such a girl as her.

She could only suppose that she was simply too reluctant. Not to be gotten wrong, she was a Gryffindor by heart; a true lioness, even. She was perhaps just a touch stubborn, however, but not with everything, just certain situations, perhaps ones that correlated with Voldemort. She knew her diffident ways had to change if she was going to be able to fight in this upcoming war.

She also knew that she could be very defiant, considering an incident that occurred just the year prior. She had been walking alone down one of the first floor's corridors headed to her charms class. She had just recently enacted her plan to fight back at the enemies with her army of students from various Houses, (except Slytherin, of course) when walking towards her was member of the Inquisitorial Squad, Draco Malfoy, with his usual narcissistic smirk playing along his lips and a cruel insult ready for her.

_"Potter...looking rather drab today as usual...it's no wonder no one would ever date you."_

It was the most out-of-the-blue low-blow she'd received that week, not to mention extremely inessential since she had done_ nothing_ to him in the first place, though she wasn't shocked, for she had grown used to his prickly antics. She refused to overlook this, however, and she was in no mood to ignore that comment.

"Piss off, you ugly prat!" she muttered through gritted teeth in return, hoping that he had heard her, but chose to keep on walking off. He did not.

"What was that, _Potter_?!" he shot back.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, and she put on a wide and accusing grin while doing so.

"I'm getting damn tired of your shit, Malfoy. So...just shove your little statements up your arse."

Little did she expect the Umbridge-certified 'good'-deeder to retaliate with a sharp slap across the face. It was damn forceful. Her left cheek throbbed and stung madly from its exertion. She tasted copper suddenly and realized that he had hit her hard enough to cut the inside of her cheek. She sucked on the side of her cheek in an attempt to soothe it and cease the bleeding, then went on to kick the snickering pureblood's groin. The guffaws had turned into groans of pain. His right hand went to his pant-clad manhood and he doubled over, cursing the dirtiest words Antonia had ever heard aloud.

She began to mock him and make fun of the torment he was now feeling, valuing her taken stance and giving him a taste of his own medicine, until she caught sight of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher standing with her arms crossed just feet away. She was in her usual overwhelmingly soft and pink knit clothing. Antonia still had those words _I must not tell lies _marred into her forearm from her last session of detention with Umbridge. She could feel her heart sink at the thought of how she'd be punished this time.

She had received three months of detention everyday after school for three hours each day, including the weekends. She almost regretted giving Draco that well-deserved kick, but then decided it was worth it whenever she saw him chastising her by means of cruel mockery.

What really played out again and again in her mind were his words of how "Fucking beautiful" she was. This had stunned the daylights out of her. Draco had done and said many inhumane things to her throughout the last five years, but he'd never said anything _like that _to her. He was adamant as well, for she could tell this in the severity of his tone. His voice was so devoid of even a hint of sarcasm. It was husky, deep and admittedly frightening. She could tell that he was in a rush to leave, and she was thankful beyond words for that. Had he stayed just a while longer, he'd have probably stripped her entirely and proceeded to deprive her of her innocence. She noticed that he was already on the verge of this by that hardness she had felt pressing against her womanhood, as well as the clear bulge that stood out below his waist once he was back on his feet. He was most definitely aroused.

Why, though? Hadn't he hated her all these years? She pondered this as she vigorously shampooed her thick, wavy tresses. Unless of course, he had done it to put her through her deserved torment. He was perhaps just getting his comeuppance. That made sense. She had assisted in putting his wicked father in his rightful place behind bars in Azkaban, and he was infuriated about this, of course. At this figuration, she felt goosebumps spring up all over her body. She'd have to be extra careful this year. He would certainly be out to get her, and if she were to so much as run into him by an empty janitorial storage closet or classroom, then she was bound to get it.

While the obvious and best solution to avoid having her first-time be one from the pits of hell, she would just need to stay the hell out of his way, but there was a problem with that. She had to keep a close eye on him considering his recent contributions to her top enemy. If it was true that Draco Malfoy was indeed a Death Eater, then she would most certainly be getting very, very close to him.

* * *

That next morning, Antonia was going to spend her free period with Ron Weasley, for they had much catching up to do. They had spoken little over the holiday due to the sudden death of Sirius, which had really thrown Antonia into a long and deep depression.

Hermione had a class to attend, of course, being the hard-working and industrious girl she was. And she likely wouldn't function properly if she had been deprived the opportunity to attend seven whole classes for at least five days a week.

Antonia and Ron, on the other hand, were not exactly offended at the thought of having some extra free time in their days. In fact, they both would take it to their greatest advantages, by standing on a small platform to the left side of the corridor swarming with students, watching Professor McGonagall in the middle of it all calling after misbehaving or lost students, and giving out relentless instructions to the passersby.

To others it would have looked as if they were just having their fun in their own world, satisfied that they don't have to spend their first hour of the day in a classroom. The elderly Head of Gryffindor took note of their fun being had, and decided that it would be better for them to spend their time doing something productive—in a classroom.

"Miss Potter."

Antonia directed her attention to the professor standing out in the middle of the hallway. Her stare was intent and almost cold. She, like every time this prof called her over, felt chills run down her spine in slight fear.

"Damn…" she mumbled before stepping down and approaching her house's Head.

Shaking her head in disapproval, Minerva accused, "Enjoying ourselves, are we?"

"Well, I have a free period this morning, ma'am."

"So I've noticed. I would have though that you would have wanted to spend this time in potions, or is it no longer your ambition to become an auror?"

"It was, ma'am, but I was told that I had to receive an Outstanding in my O.W.L."

"So you did, when Professor Snape was teaching potions. Professor Slughorn is perfectly happy to accept N.E.W.T. students...with _exceeding _expectations."

Antonia felt trapped by her words. It seemed as if she had no choice but to do as she was recommended, or required, as this professor had made it sound.

"Alright. I-I'll head there straight away, professor."

"Oh, good."

She turned away quickly, all too ready to get out of this uncomfortable interlocutor and to class, since she practically _had _to attend. She heard her surname being called out again before she was even five feet away. She sighed before turning to reface the stern woman.

"Take Weasley with you. He looks far too happy over there."

Antonia nodded in obligation, before gladly storming off and forcing Ron to join her.

…

"So, who is this Slughorn, anyway? You mentioned that you've met him already, didn't you?" Ron asked as the two headed for potions.

"Yeah, he's um, an alright man, I suppose. I'll let you be the judge."

"Right, then."

They both halfheartedly trudged on to a class that they did not care to attend. On a brighter note, Antonia was relieved that she was able to again consider her dream career in Magical Law Enforcement. It had been her plan since her third year. She had desires of hunting down the worst and most dangerous criminals of the Magical World and putting them where they belonged. Now that she was allowed the privilege to take the class she needed to pursue the line of work she wanted in several years to come, she could finally allow herself to get her hopes up again.

They stopped in front of his classroom and sighed simultaneously. "Well, let's get this over with," Ron gruffly implied. He led the way though the opened doorway. Once the two were in, the Professor had stopped instructing, and everyone's attention was drawn to them. Antonia blushed intensely at having interrupted his class, while Ron simply kept his expression nonchalant and reserved.

"Ahh, Antonia, darling, I was beginning to worry. Brought someone with us, I see..."

"Ron Weasley, sir...I'm um, not _enrolled_ into potions...I'll just go-" Antonia stepped behind him to prevent his attempted leave.

"Nonsense. Any friend of Antonia's is a friend of mine. Get your books out."

"Um, we haven't actually gotten our books yet...sorry…" Antonia mumbled.

"Not to worry, just get one from the cupboard. As I was saying, I was preparing some concoctions this morning. Any idea what these might be?"

They were both zoning out their best friend's answer to the professor while they fought over the newer copy of an _Advanced Potion Making _book, which was in far better shape than the other old and worn-out one, that being the only other one left. Ron had won their struggle.

They were to make Felix Felicis, or otherwise known as a 'liquid luck' potion. They had clear instructions in their books for reference, but they had been informed that very few have actually concocted a brew sufficient enough for the prize of one vial of perfectly made liquid luck.

Antonia opened her book to notice that every page was covered in notes. Inked side-descriptions were prevalent on every page she turned, and even the page she needed to use for instructions. The word 'Cut' was circled with a line to the side of the page that told her to instead _crush _with a blade, for it would release the juices better. It seemed to work as well, for she was easily able to squeeze the Sopophorous bean's contents into her brew, while the others seemed to struggle to get it right. Even Hermione, the potions genius, was befuddled at Antonia's ability to make the first instruction look so simple.

"How did you do that?" the brighter witch inquired.

"Crush, don't cut."

"_No_, the instructions specifically say to _cut_," she replied almost hotly.

"Well, not mine, lovely."

As the hour went on, Antonia continued to follow the side-notes rather than the book's text, and she was getting along fantastically, contrary to her fellow classmates.

Towards the end of class, her instructor dropped a single leaf into her brew, and it proved satisfactory. "Merlin's beard. It's perfect!"Hermione, with hair as large as 1970's Donna Summer, looked over at her friend in pure amazement. Antonia shrugged in return. "So perfect, I think one drop would kill us all! Here we are then, as promised. One vial of Felix Felicis. Congratulations." Horace leant in closer and advised "Use it _well_."

Honored, she took her prize into her palm proudly. She was even able to hold back from giving a damn that Draco was in this class, and God knew he was probably staring her down for the entire hour.

…

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

The small vial that had been loosely toyed with in her hand was snatched out of her palm and waved almost ostentatiously in her face.

"How did you earn this? What did your textbook state contrary to ours?" Hermione demanded. Antonia knew she was bothered not because she didn't win the concoction, but because she was unable to successfully conjure up _the _concoction. She felt dumbfounded, and Antonia understood damn well that her muggle born friend did not cope well with being wronged. She _was_ the brightest girl in their year, after all.

She stopped by the staircase leading to the third floor and shrugged unceremoniously. "I don't know...I just paid attention to all the little side-notes rather than the actual print-"

"Here. May I see it?"

How could the young redhead decline such persistence? She handed her the aged tome without a second thought to cross her mind. She watched her skim through the pages, eyebrows flickering up and down and lip thinning schemingly on occasion.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Antonia declared "It says it's the property of the 'Half-Blood Prince' behind the cover. Any idea of who that may be?"

Hermione placed the book back into Antonia's right palm and went on to shrug, something she hated doing. "I'm not sure."

They stepped onto the freshly adjusted staircase and began to ascend. While Hermione was feeling extraordinarily iffy about this situation, Antonia rather valued her worthy assistance. This textbook was her key to pure success in the school year to come.

* * *

_Reminisce: Fall of 1994 - The Ferret _

She had never been so paranoid in her life. Why her? Why was she _randomly _chosen to partake in the dangerous and deadly challenge that she'd have never even pondered signing up for? Not to mention she was three years underage according to the guidelines.

_'Like I'd go for a wild competition such as the Triwizard Tournament! I can hardly control a damn broomstick for Christ's sake!'_

She mustered this loudly to herself whilst angrily kicking a mid-sized stone across the lawn just outside the castle's walls. She was alone, and she wanted to be. She had just passed a group of students sporting derogatory badges that indicated how much she 'stunk'. Then to add to her fuming state of mind, she heard a familiar chipper voice consumed with shrill and irritating chagrin from a ways off.

"Why so _tense_, Potter?"

She froze in her tracks and crooked her neck to her left to see her haughty rival resting up in the crevice of a tree, his legs dangling pretentiously from off the side and an annoying smirk presented on his lips. She watched as he leapt down from his seat just a few feet above ground level. He took a few steps forward and his cronies tagged along behind.

"My father and I have a bet, ya see. I don't think you're gonna last ten minutes in this tournament."

She grimaced intensely and absentmindedly clenched her fists. He just _had_ to begin with the patronizing. She felt goosebumps spring up on her arms and the little hairs on the back on her neck went erect with frigid irritation.

"She disagrees. She thinks she might last _five_!"

She stormed for him with that remark.

"I don't give a shit what your father thinks of me, Draco!" she rammed her palms into his chest roughly, actually managing to knock a light gust of wind out of him. "He's vile, and he's fucking _sick_ at heart." She leaned in closer, purposefully taunting him with her proximity. "And you're just as pathetic."

He put on a disgruntled expression as if truly hurt by her comeback. He bared his teeth as she aggressively turned on her heels, rushing away. He drew his wand with a narrowed stare and grungy focus on her and her only. He took aim, but was halted by the new one-eyed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Moody Mad-Eye. In an instant, he was transfigured into his animagus, a snow-white ferret. He was then promptly shoved down into his large friend, Crabbe's pants.

Antonia had gotten to genuinely smile for the first time in a while that day.

…

She was astounded with how well she'd done in her first task with the dragons. She'd been given the Hungarian Horntail. Oh, how many nerves in that young adolescents body must have been shot that afternoon. Her every fibre was aflame with adrenaline, and all she could think about was surviving somehow. A broomstick had granted her such luck, and after a strenuous wild dragon chase around the school's grounds, she had achieved her egg-shaped prize.

All the other tasks thereafter were no simpler, and the death of her eventual friend Cedric Diggory had proven too much for her to handle, she was only fourteen, after all and she had to first-handedly witness the truth behind Mad-Eye's actuality, in the form of an impostor.

She had nightmares all the rest of that summer.

* * *

_A/N: I'd like to thank Guest for the lovely review :) Thanks to the people following and favorite(ing) the story, it's truly inspiring. _

_[Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, settings, material, elements, and so on. All rights to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.]_

_Have a great Friday! Until next week =)_


	4. Just What She Needed

****Strong sexual content in this chapter**

* * *

**Chapter Four  
_Just What She Needed_**

_Reminisce: Late summer of 1995 - Dementor Intrusion_

_"It's just too hot today. Temperatures are up into the mid-nineties, and are possibly headed into the hundreds by tomorrow."_

Antonia observed a mother calling after her young son from the playset while she herself sat alone on a free swing that day in early August. She had just recently turned fifteen. Nowadays, she preferred spending time with just herself. She was lost in a state of perpetual sadness at the murder of Cedric. She had never been too close to him, though they had developed a bond of sorts during her fourth year while reluctantly taking part in the Triwizard tasks.

Solitude eased her paranoia and allowed her to sort things out for herself. This was what she needed. She just needed to think. To consider circumstances on her own, surrounded by nothing more than each swing to her side, the gravel below her dragging feet and the delightfully soothing sound of birds singing out in the distance.

She did not want to see her cousin Dudley.

"Beat up another child, lard-arse?" Antonia mocked upon hearing laughter emanate from a short distance before her.

Her large and dim-witted cousin retorted with, "This one _deserved _it."

She scoffed harshly. "Five to one? That sound fair to you?" she challenged.

Keeping his blank, stupid face, he protested, "Least I'm not moaning in my sleep every night. Least I'm not afraid of my pillow."

Immature guffaws ensued at his poor remark. Antonia remained unfazed by his idiocy. She shrugged and drew her stare downcast to a more welcoming view of the dirt ground supporting her flat-shoed size eight feet.

"OH! Don't kill Cedric! Who's Cedric? Your boyfriend?"

"Cram it."

"She's going to kill me, mum! Where is your mum, Potter?"

Antonia refused to look up at him. She fought to ignore her clenched fists resting shakily at her sides, ready to punch away at that fat, ruddy face of his.

"She dead?"

The giggles increased in volume.

"IS SHE DEAD?"

It was particularly the way he laughed out loud while mockingly roaring that last cruelly rhetorical inquiry that got the feisty young redheaded girl up to her feet and in his face in seconds, her wand pressed firmly and threateningly to his double chin.

"Say it again, you lethargic, obese, bastard hog!"

He shoved her roughly to the gravel. Her skirt had risen above her waist following the stumble, revealing her light pink undies to the five adolescent boys to see lucidly. She had dropped her wand during the fall, and was now livid with pure loathe for the group of illiterate dummies. Her face went tomato-red at the realization of her undergarments being on well-display. She went even more burgundy at the comment that one of the blond moron's had to give right then.

"Ya should fuck 'er, Duds. Teach the little bitch a lesson."

"I can't fuck my _cousin_, you twat."

She yanked her skirt down to cover up her shame and immediately retracted her loose wand. Once it was aimed directly at the cousin's face from her position on the ground below, the sky began to darken immensely. A heap of thick clouds rolled in blocking every inch of sunlight that was just shining brightly down on them moments earlier. Gusts of strong wind blew in and all around the gang and pieces of newspaper and empty soda bottles circled them as the flurry picked up pace.

"Wha- what are you doing?" he stammered nervously.

"_I'm_ not doing anything."

Once the two were alone out in the middle of the fielded area, the sky went on to darken even more, and the murky clouds above them seemed to swirl around slightly, forming a gyre. Rain started pouring down on them suddenly and scornfully, forcing them to escape the playground and hightail the exiting dirt pathway.

The two became soaked fast as they sprinted down the narrow road. They panted simultaneously as they entered a tunnel with walls smothered in graffiti and flooring littered with cigarettes. A row of lights lining the interior walls were flickering, and a pool of fresh precipitation could be seen pooling around the entrance on the other side of the sheltered section.

Suddenly, Antonia felt long and rough fingers wrap around her neck and press her aggressively into the cement wall behind her. She was lifted off of her feet and into the air by what was undoubtedly a dementor. Her throat at her captor's clench, asphyxiation kicked in.

With the little remaining sake she still held for her cousin along with her profuse fear, she croaked, "Dudley, run!"

And that he did without a second thought. He was trotting down the slick pavement directly after her request, only to slip and slide down towards the tunnel's other opening to become faced with another dementor.

Antonia struggled tremendously to breathe. Sure enough, remnants of her soul began to exude from her parted lips. She was barely able to obtain her wand to fend off the attacker, although once she succeeded with doing so, she was quick to use the "Expecto Patronum!" spell on him, lighting up the space around her and driving out the entity, doing the same for her victimized cousin.

Heavy intakes of air took up a long minute of their time. Standing at the far end of the tunnel was a familiar woman dressed in formal clothing holding a large handbag and sporting a large feathery hat atop her head.

"Mrs. Figg?"

* * *

She snapped out of her nostalgic trance and returned her focus to her current situation. She was due on the sixth floor for her Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Snape.

He, since her very first day attending this school, had always made her feel uneasy. Over the last five years he had paid no heed to her whatsoever, minus a few berating statements directed her way from time to time. The only real attention she'd ever received from him were those hard stares he'd give her during those prior potions classes she'd had with him. He seemed to be particularly fascinated with her eyes that strongly resembled her mother's. She had been told this by many since her first year, including the Head of Slytherin. She was shocked to know that he knew her mother, and it even bothered her to a point. Had he picked on her during his schooling at Hogwarts? Or were they close? Friends, or, _heaven forbid_, something more?

She had never even thought about asking him said status. Personally, she really didn't want to know anyways. Perhaps she was better off remaining oblivious to such an acknowledgement. Right now she had to prepare herself for what was bound to be a stressful hour with her most stern and condescending teacher.

…

"Turn to page two hundred and fifty eight."

Audible page flipping sounded throughout the large and eerie classroom located in the dungeons. The sixth years were frantic to get to that specific page instantly, for their scholar was and had always been far from patient.

Antonia scanned the room around her, identifying students she knew well and didn't. She spotted one of her close friend's, Neville Longbottom, sitting across the room by a trio of Ravenclaws, chewing apprehensively on his bottom lip and quaveringly turning the pages of his textbook. She felt the urge to rise from her assigned seat and join her pal across the class, but wisely decided against it.

She silently read the chapter's title 'Resisting the Imperius Curse'. She recalled using preventable tactics the year earlier with her DA group. Her thoughts were drawn to what occurred at the Ministry. The attack. Her and her friend's lives having been at stake. The crystal ball. The prophecy.

Sirius' death.

Her eyes welled up with tears at the eidetic memory of that night last spring. The loss of her godfather was still tearing her apart. She fought to end hot tears from flowing down her ample cheek as the Professor corned her table.

"Now, this year you all shall learn that your defenses must be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo." He stopped there and glared at the young auburn-haired woman seated near him. Dead quiet wafted in the drafty air for a few moments before the thirty-something Prof continued on.

Antonia felt disconcert at the thought of him having paused to look her over. It wouldn't have been the first time. She knew those dark glints of his enjoyed spending their time on her figure. She only prayed that he wasn't _sexually _attracted to her, and that the reason for his constant staring was for..._other _reasons. Yet, those 'reasons' would likely be inexcusable nonetheless.

She felt her shoulders relax and the tightness in her chest ease once he was across the room, now harshly calling on Neville to read the first few paragraphs of the chapter aloud. She continuously glanced at the clock mounted high on the bricked wall to see how much more time she had to spend in this dreadful class for the day. Her stomach churned at the fifty-four minutes she had to remain in her rickety stool. If she was lucky, she wouldn't be called on to read for the class.

…

She left class begrudgingly at the acknowledgement of just how much studying she was going to be doing that night for the quiz she was going to be having the following day. At least she was paying attention during the hour, even learning a thing or two about self-defense by means of magic.

She descended the stairway alone, now on her way to Charms class with Flitwick. She waved at Neville who passed right on by her down the flight, seeming nervous and in a hurry. She supposed that the Professor may have upset him a tad too much for their first day, for he'd never cared for the brunet, herbology-loving Gryffindor much throughout the years, for unidentifiable reasons.

That night she wrote in her diary once her roommates, Hermione, the Patil twins and Lavender Brown were sound asleep. She wrote underneath her sheets lighting up her tented area with a simple lumos spell.

'_2 September 1996_

_I have been feeling overwhelmed lately, probably due to Sirius' death, but maybe there is something more I should be wary about. I have my suspicions that Draco is more than the usual prick he has been since first year. I believe that he is now a Death Eater. Yes, it's a daring and even dangerous assumption, I know, and I obviously cannot go to Dumbledore with my theory just yet. I need to gather more evidence before I accuse, though, the tables have been turned already, and I doubt I need to see much more before I know for sure that the prat is truly and most definitely working for Voldemort. _

_At the same time, I need to watch myself. After what happened last night on the Express..I just cannot allow _**_that _**_to happen again. I saw little of him today, for he is only in my potions class with me straight away in the morning. I plan on uncovering his common whereabouts so I can easily keep an eye on him, and get the proper proof that I'll need before pointing any fingers. _

_Oh, I know damn well what he's up to, however. It's only rational. His father is one, so why wouldn't he take on the deed as well? Perhaps he is being forced into this..or maybe he just wants to murder because he has enough pure dick in him to do such unspeakable acts. It wouldn't amaze me. No, I know he's not a kind person. Never has been and never will be. From the day I refused to shake his hand on the first of September just five years ago, to his alcohol-drenched tongue swimming around harassingly in my own mouth._

_Excuse me while I go vomit._

_ ~Antonia' _

With that, she closed her journal and placed it into the bottom drawer of her dresser. Hopefully she would manage to get some decent shut-eye tonight.

* * *

Flat on her back she laid while drifted into a heavy stupor. The room was dimly lit with the only luminescence coming from the moonlight that shone through the window aside the sleeping girl, the curtains swept aside and the ajar opening allowing a light cool breeze to break into the room.

At the end of the bed, a sudden weight sunk down into the mattress. A figure slipped underneath the thin ruby comforter and gradually crawled further up the mattress, then onto the unconscious girl, pinning her down as He slid up her body. She came to, groggy and confused for a moment before becoming consumed with terror and horrific realization. She was about to let out a bloodcurdling scream but was not allowed a peep once a 10 inch Hawthorn wood wand was shoved almost piercingly against her chin.

She heard a low voice grumble "_Not a word_." She began to pant furiously as she felt long and cold fingers trace up her thighs from beneath the blanket. She squirmed madly as her nightgown was being slid up her waist to rest above her panty line. She whimpered silently while continuing to skirmish for freedom. She winced and barely managed to stifle a yelp when the weapon against her chin was thrust forcefully against her. "_Don't fucking move_" the voice warned, forcing her to obey.

She became nerve wracked to the point of coming close to physical sickness when those long and freezing fingers dipped into the waistband of her panties and dragged them down past her knees and completely off her ankles. She felt incredibly enervated and nauseous now, and her face had never felt more on fire. She silently begged and pleaded for her captor to cease what he was about to do, and availed not. She had no choice but to endure the hot and quickly paced breathing she felt on her bare nether parts, as well as the familiar feel of a tongue, penetrating the area where not even her own hands had traveled many times.

She writhed wildly in her place while forcibly being assaulted in an explicitly sexual manner. Cruel throaty laughter could be heard in response to her obvious distaste as He slithered up her body, sliding her sheer nightgown up her body in the process. Hard and greedy kisses trailed along her belly then onto her breastbone. Her nightie was swiftly yanked upwards to unveil her bra-less breasts for her assaulter to fool with. The large weight over her didn't distract her as much as the protruding pressure she felt between her legs. She could do nothing to retaliate as He snaked out of his own pants and underwear to tease her untouched womanhood with his own. She relentlessly begged the man to put an end to his pervasive enactment while He in turn merely ignored her pleas and sucked away at the girl's freed tits.

Immense stinging proceeded within her sex, allowing her virginity to fade away one thrust at a time. Her cleavage and chest were attacked with ravenous, lustful lovebites and licks. Those now warm and slim fingers found themselves hoisting her body closer to his own from underneath her body. Her head was nearly slamming the bed's headboard at the velocity of her attacker's fierce propelling. Her back tingled in response to His fingernails scraping against her upper back and shoulders as He pleasured himself.

It wasn't until she could've sworn that she heard the wand fall to the wooden floor before she decided to let out a piercing screech.

The next thing she knew she was feeling her insides flip as she fell over the edge of her bed to crash onto the floor. Her sheets were entangled around her waist, thereby coming down with her. She had banged her head on the edge of her dresser during the fall, resulting in major fuzziness and sharp pain to emerge throughout the back of her skull.

A lamp was turned on from across the room next to Hermione's bed. Antonia could merely lay where she was on the floor and stare in outrageous bafflement as her roommates stared scrutinizingly at her in pure obfuscation.

"What the bloody fuck happened?!" blurted Lavender from her upward position in her bed. Antonia closed her eyes and slowly began to steady her breathing. Hermione approached her and knelt down to the floor to place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Just a nightmare, I presume?" she asked gently.

She met her gaze and nodded sheepishly. "I-I'm so sorry. It was just...so vivid. It-it seemed so real, I-"

"No, it's alright, Antonia. Don't you worry."

Antonia sighed heavily and brought herself to her feet with a stumble. She felt lightheaded from the aggressive fall and needed to get some fresh air. She rubbed the back of her head and announced "I'm okay. I'll just, um, go out into the common room for a while...get some water and collect my thoughts."

She made her way to the door, only to be stopped by her concerned friend. "Would you like me to join you?"

She turned and quickly told her "No, no thank you, Hermione. I just need to be alone right now.."

She nodded understandingly and headed back to her own bed. Halfway out the door, Antonia heard Lavender scoff and sneer "What a lightweight," while the Patil twins chortled briefly in turn.

Before she left, she grabbed her bathrobe from the end of her unkempt bed and put it on. Once out in the cool and drafty hall, she wrapped the satin garment more securely around her frame. She fought to rid the remaining pieces of that gruesome dream that brutishly played in her mind. She had never felt so violated in her life.

She plopped herself down onto the couch in the middle of the common room. She withdrew her wand and lit the fireplace to give the room light as well as life. She stared blankly at the flame and contemplated what had just happened. Relief coursed through her at the fact that what she'd just 'experienced' was a petty dream; a mere result of hardcore R.E.M. Yet, it seemed so authentic, both visually and physically. And though it was nothing real, it still bothered the daylights out of her.

Why on earth was she having such dreams? And especially about…

Draco.

She never saw his face in the dream, but she knew it was him. She recognized the feel of his body over her from...unfortunate prior experience. She also identified that shrill and as usual uppity voice of his through his few muttered threats he'd given her.

As the minutes ticked on, she slowly began to feel more at ease. She knew she couldn't allow herself to fall back asleep, however. Not tonight. Not after that. She rose from her lain position on the plump red sofa and headed for the storage cupboards. In a more discreet one behind a tall bottle of olive oil and a box of graham crackers was a small stash of her brought alcoholic beverages. Yes, she'd broken a good chunk of the school's rules and brought some of her own drinks.

Over the summer, she had developed...well, a habit of sorts. She took up underage drinking shortly after the murder of her godfather. She would try to refrain from doing it too often, limiting herself to no more than five glasses a week, for she knew that developing a thirst for such beverages would only result in havoc. The last thing she needed was a diagnosis of alcoholism.

Right now, she needed a shot or two of her muggle drink, chianti. She poured herself a small dose of the tangy liquid and gulped it all down in one swallow. She then went for numero two.

After a regretful six shots later, she chastised herself roughly and returned her booze to its rightful and hidden place, then trudged back to the sofa to collapse into the thick cushions and eventually drift back into sleep.

…

Sunlight filled the room that morning while the redhead laid sprawled out on the couch in the Gryffindor's common room. She groggily shifted in her place and stretched out her limbs to rid any nightly kinks and stiff muscles that could've settled in during her rest. She opened her eyes to see a lit room. The paintings on the wall were now clear and the chandelier above her looked stunning in the sunlight.

She panicked slightly upon hearing footsteps enter the room. She wasn't willing to be seen in such a sluggish manner, with her disheveled night clothing and uncombed hair. She hastily peered over the armrest of the couch to see someone she didn't have to fret over one bit.

"Oh, hello Neville," she chimed from her lazy position on the couch. The tall young man donning a red robe, striped pajamas and blue slippers jumped slightly, then smirked abashedly and sweetly mumbled "Antonia. I didn't see you there."

"Sorry to startle you, my friend," she teased in turn, now making Neville's face go light pink at the awkwardness.

"Startle? I think not," he laughed. "So, what brings you out here so early?"

She ran her right hand through her slick tresses while mumbling "I had a bad dream last night, so I came out here to, um..get a little fresh air, I suppose."

"Makes sense. I can't tell you how many times I've had to do that myself over the years. In fact, my last occurrence was just last May when I dreamt of...em, nevermind."

Antonia's eyes widened with curiosity. "Tell me. I won't judge you, Neville. Come on."

"Well, okay. Don't tell anyone this, but, I dreamt that Professor Snape had me under the influence of the Cruciatus curse while sporting my grandmother's attire. It was rather dreadful. He was even wearing her purple lipstick."

Antonia forced herself to swallow her pride and abstain a bout of laughter. She empathetically told him "That sounds rather awful, indeed."

Antonia enjoyed his presence, but not so much the other's who were making their way in. She was hardly dressed properly enough to go out and get _mail_. She hurriedly told Neville that she'd see him later and rushed back to her dorm.

The girls were just now awakening and pulling themselves out from under their sheets. Antonia removed her robe and allowed it to thud to the floor while she headed for her dresser. She retrieved a fresh pair of underwear and a bra, then obtained her school attire and headed into the bathroom to quickly shower.

…

"Are you going to tell me about your dream or not?"

Hermione was being awful persistent with not only that, but also Antonia's usage of her _Advanced Potions_ book. Concern displayed itself beautifully on her friend's face, and Antonia's wasn't too happy about it.

"I already told you. I was raped."

"Well...by whom?"

"I don't know. Just drop it. It's no big deal."

Her acquaintance's expression turned to one of disappointment. "Alright. I just want to know that you're okay now."

"I am."

"Good..good, that's good."

The two continued down the corridor towards the Great Hall for breakfast. Turning the corner into the entrance of the eating area, Antonia ran right into a hard chest. The crash had caused her to drop her books and other equipment as well as the person before her to do the same.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I should have seen where I was-"

She froze upon realizing that she had just rammed into Draco. Oh, what luck. This was just what she needed. Just what she needed.

"Watch where you're going you filthy little bitch," he spat with arrogance that not even Salazar himself could muster up.

He finished up with "That goes for you too, mudblood."

"Wanker off, you vain brat," Hermione snapped. She then grabbed Antonia's wrist and sped past the pureblooded son of a bitch, yanking her along. Antonia was wholeheartedly fuming just as much as her friend, yet she couldn't find it in her at that moment to give him some of her own dirt. Damn, it was that dream. It was now messing with her confidence. Her bold ego.

Good Lord. She felt a sense of powerful defeat upon taking a seat next to Ginny. Why, she should have_ tackled_ him back there, not kept silent like some self-conscious Hufflepuff first year!

She sighed and decided to just try and move past it. Perhaps, if and when the time was right, she could find another way to get back at him. For what he did to her._ Twice_, too. She had to level up to the deliberate and cruel assault on the train, and for the nasty dream she was forced to endure all due to his traumatizing subconscious inflictions.

Though, she could suppose that just the one 'assault' was really his fault. Yet, she was so fired up about both the harassments that she could easily blame the arse for harming her in more than that one way.

She picked away at her plate of scrambled eggs and didn't even bother nibbling on her slice of toast spread with her favorite strawberry jam. Her stomach felt knotted up from leftover stress from both last night's vivid slumber pictures and that real-life run-in with her second-to top enemy. She was visibly shaking all over, and she could feel a lump forming in the back of her throat. She lay her fork down and rested her head in her left hand and closed her eyes. Her friends seemed to take concern at this.

"Antonia, are you feeling alright?" asked Ginny, her tone full of consternation.

At that, she rose from her inert position and nodded. "I just feel a little tired is all. I'm fine, though."

It was then when her focus was drawn across the room towards the Slytherin's table. Her eyes landed on a rising Draco Malfoy. She watched with meticulous eyes as he walked off in the other direction towards the entrance. Her nosiness was fast getting the best of her, and she couldn't bear just remaining where she was, despite her better judgements.

Overlooking her potential safety, she slipped out of her seat and proclaimed "I-I need to use the lavatory. I'll see you all later."

She chose not to wait for her friends' replies, and instead rushed out of the Great Hall to try and catch up with the mysterious young man who was bound to be up to no good.

* * *

A/N: Thank you _guest_ and _RachaelEwe_ for reviewing :) I appreciate the constructive feedback.

_Disclaimer: All rights to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros._

I'd like to thank my readers. What will our protagonist do_ if_ and _when_ she catches the mysterious blond prowler? Next week's update shall reveal the answer! Have a lovely weekend, dear readers :)

-JLM


	5. What She Wanted

**Chapter Five  
****_What She Wanted_**

She caught a glimpse of that neatly parted platinum hair from just outside of the Great Hall. He was turning the corner on her left, and he was moving rigorously. She had to scamper down the hall quickly in order to catch up with him, while remaining unnoticed as well. She could always go for being invisible to his kind, for all they had to comment was pure indignity at the sight of people like her.

She nearly crashed into a group of fifth years upon turning the corner with blinding rapidity. By the time she was halfway down this hall, he was already out of her sight again onto the next. While striding the lengthy corridors she began to contemplate why she was even bothering. She should have just stopped there and went back with a shrug and no damns given. Then again, he was suspect to very illegal activity, and if Antonia were to stalk him just as she had intended to since a couple days before, then she would unlock the secrets she needed to prove him guilty.

So, perhaps it was only necessary to follow him every which way and take note of every little thing he did. Anything to verify his loyalty to You-Know-Who. Judging the way he seemed to be in an extreme hurry, Antonia could guess that he was up to some naughty business right at that moment, and with that thought in mind, she pushed herself to pick up her pace and not even think about losing sight of him, even for a second.

However, once she had faced her next hallway she had suddenly lost sight of him. There was no way he could've vanished over the next corner_ that fast_. She had been not fifty steps behind him this entire time. She hinted that he must have walked into one of the classrooms, and began to peer into each door she passed, even turning the knobs of unlocked closed doors to look in. He hadn't been seen in any.

She groaned in frustration. _Now_ how was she going to see what the hell he's up to? She ran shaky fingers through her hair and glanced upwards at the clock mounted high on the wall. It was 7:55, indicating that she had a good hour to track down the ferret before her first class was to begin.

She tore up hall after hall into a ransacked attempt to now purposefully run into Draco, though not literally, but from a large distance between them. Forty minutes ticked on, and she had failed to see him. With less than twenty minutes to spare before she was due in potions class, she decided to give up and study in the library for that quiz she was to have in Snape's class in second period.

Antonia could hardly focus on her study material however, for her thoughts were glued obsessively to Malfoy's whereabouts. Could he have apparated onto a different floor? That seemed to be the only reasonable explanation for his sudden disappearance.

Whatever he did, she had to force herself to let it go. She wanted to make a grand impression in her DADA class this year, and that would be a sure challenge with Severus being the one to instruct the course.

Maybe it would even be close to impossible.

…

Draco was eight minutes late to class that morning.

That was the first thing Antonia noticed. At least Professor Slughorn let him off the hook with a too-fair warning to "come in a little earlier next time."

Antonia saw this as the humble man's excuse to hold back from taking any points from his House, for they were on the mere second day.

That morning they were reading over a chapter on the perfect brew of an Alihotsy Draught potion. They were not to begin a brew of this potion until the next class session. Instead of reading along with the Professor on the concoction that "Induces chronic hysteria", she chose to look over what she needed to know about preventative measures against dark forces. With all she'd been through over the last five years, Antonia felt that she already knew everything there was to know. She could go as far as writing up a book on said subject. Still, in order to ensure a high grade on this foreshadowed difficult quiz, she needed to really nail the contents into her head, and keep them in place.

All that hour she could've sworn that she felt a certain blond's stare focused on her and her only. However, she refused to lift her head from her textbook. She may have just been paranoid, but she could have sworn that she felt his frustration waft from across the room. From what? Her refusal to look back over at him? She was pretending that she didn't even notice him.

She wasn't going to give him what he wanted. She was going to get what she wanted. And that was to find out all she could about who he really was and what he was doing while going completely unnoticed.

With just fifteen seconds to go before their bell was to ring, Antonia glanced up to see her rival's gray hues still locked on her. It appeared that her assumptions were correct. Apparently, he had been gawking her down for the whole of the hour. The cocky moron.

Irritated by his carefree and domineering attitude, she bluntly raised her middle finger directly his way, while managing to go unseen by the surrounding students. She smirked whimsically at seeing his wide, venom-filled and shocked eyes at the short-lived gesture.

The students piled out of the class once the bell sounded. Antonia was one of the final to exit along with Ron and Hermione. Hermione had to head off to the library to pick up a pre-ordered book before she headed off to Advanced Arithmancy, and Ron's class was far-off on the other side of the school, so he had to get running along quickly, leaving Antonia alone to head for her next class.

The dungeons were hoarded with students of all years. The busyness of the halls would make it nearly impossible for anyone to detect something askew that could happen at any given moment. A moment like this one.

Antonia was walking along the cemented walling while just around the corner from Snape's class. She was just about to pass the half-open door to her right, but something halted her from doing so. She felt someone ram into her from her left side, knocking her roughly into the small room, or space, really. She hit the back wall without even the slightest amount of grace, dropping her bag and yelping out as it happened. She heard the door slam shut, leaving the space around her pitch black and very confined.

"What the fu-"

She was slapped by a large hand across her left cheek. Then she felt a body press firmly against hers, slamming her into the cool wall behind her. Her head whacked against one of the more bulky stones that stuck out, causing a large quantity of pain to surge through her head. She gasped out quickly before the same hand that smacked her across the face found a place on her neck just below her chin to grip tenaciously, nearly choking her.

"What do ya think you were doing back in there, Potter? Think you can freely point that ugly little finger of yours to my face, do you?"

"Malfoy-"

He tightened his grip on her throat, making her squirm more and whimper, though not loudly enough to attract the attention of outside passersby. She felt helpless at this moment. Just like in her dream. The circumstances were certainly similar, though they still varied in one major way, a way that she could never allow to happen.

"Little fucking wench. That's what you are. Yeah. Pathetic woman. Forgets who is _superior_. Thinks she is better than me. Doesn't realize how wrong she is."

"L-let me go-"

His other hand went for a handful of hair from her scalp and yanked coercively. Had it not been for the Silencing charm Draco put on their small space, someone would have surely heard the horrific scream she let out.

He rhythmically pulled away at her hair while calling her every filthy swear in the book. She could feel tears streaming down her face while he violated her. She fought against him with all her strength, though she was weak that morning to begin with. Had she known that this would be the result to her finger raising then she would have strongly considered chopping off both of them via blade to prevent committing such a risky act.

She could feel her feet lift from their place on the floor. Their proximity was only becoming more definite. He held her against the wall, both his hands now grasped at her waist, holding her up in her place. She could tell that he was starting to struggle with keeping her still, and she enjoyed that. She wasn't going to make any of this easy for him.

In her ear, he growled, "You know what I thought about all hour, _Antonia_? I fantasized about stripping you bare and screwing your brains out right in here."

"S-stop it-"

"I became hard at the thought of your tits in my mouth, you know. You may not have been much to look at a few years ago, but fucking Merlin, have you developed into something pleasantly fuckable-"

"Enough! Sick pervert! Goddamn bully! Stupid, pratty cock! You're _not_ superior of anyone you confused Daddy's boy! Oh, and about your _blessed_ father, how is he holding up in prison at the moment?"

This had derived his focus. "Don't you dare fucking speak of my father-"

"He's a _pretty_ man I must admit, Draco. I can assume that he's receiving all kinds of attention from the other grisly inmates there in Azkaban. I can't imagine that his lovely and toned backside _doesn't_ get a dick or two shoved into it during their _weekly_ showers-"

"Filthy cunt!"

He threw her down to the ground and kicked her roughly on the side. She winced and began to sob uncontrollably while backing as far she possibly could into the corner. He left her with one more sharp slap across her already throbbing cheek before leaving her be with the slamming of the closet door.

She spent an unsure amount of time after his departure crying in fetal position on the floor. She was surrounded by darkness and a faint smell of old textbooks, spice and apples mocked her nostrils. Would things only become worse from here on out? She already felt so broken.

Antonia admittedly wasn't too shocked at the motherfucker's confession. She had sensed his unhealthy feelings for her since around fourth year. She recalled one remark he made towards her in particular that year during the Yule Ball.

…

_Reminisce: December of 1994 - The Yule Ball_

"Have you brought the butterbeer?"

"Oh, no. Sorry, I forgot."

"Ronald! Ugh...ah well. I'll just have to settle for some pumpkin juice...with just a _touch_ of sherry, that is," giggled the Triwizard competitor, honoring her new sense of rebellion.

"I wouldn't bother, Toni. You'll probably get caught."

"Not if I'm careful."

She crookedly stood from her seat on the cool cemented fifth step leading upstairs. She adjusted her velvety black silk V-necked dress that flowed elegantly at her ankles and loosened up her bun that had been formed on top of her head to allow the strands to fall freely down her shoulders and back. She swayed in a very womanly manner in her three inch platforms towards the beverage table, having her mind set on a nice half pumpkin juice with half sherry, if she could manage to go unnoticed, that was.

She hummed gleefully as she poured the juice into her glass, then cautiously looked around to make sure that no teachers were around to catch her helping herself to a little alcohol. When the coast appeared clear, she went ahead and popped open the available drink and quickly poured away, filling her cup to the brim before placing the cork back in its rightful place.

She took a large and greedy gulp of her mixed drink and shuddered slightly at the unique combo. She generally just preferred her drinks whole, but tonight she had to keep a low profile with exactly what she was consuming, and mixing this particular booze with thick, murky and orange pulp was stellar for disguising the alcohol.

She sipped her glass eloquently as she made her way back towards the stairway, unfortunately managing to jostle right into a mildly hammered Slytherin during the trip. The bump had caused her to spill a few teaspoons of her drink onto the purely black blazer of Draco's. And though it didn't and wouldn't show or stain his attire, he still had himself a little fit.

"Bloody hell! Look at what you did you clumsy bitch!"

Antonia giggled purposefully at her little 'mishap', and unapologetically remarked, "Oh...oops. Sorry, love."

_Love?_

Draco was addled at her odd word choice, but then quickly figured out that the giddy girl was tipsy. Oh, how he could take advantage of this…

A devilish grin played along his lips. "Drunk, are you? Tsk, tsk, be a shame if I were to inform one of the professors of your underage drinking, wouldn't it?"

He drank in her angst at his given threat, and decided to worsen her circumstances by adding, "I see Professor Snape right over there with Karkaroff. Oh, and he's leaving...I best go n' get him before he gets the chance to-"

"No! No, Malfoy...Please, just, just leave me be. I'm sorry, alright? Your damn shirt isn't ruined anyways, you dolt."

"Mm...not enjoying that language, Potter. Got a bit of a mouth on you tonight, eh? I'll let it slip as you being too intoxicated to think clearly. In the meantime, I shall let you off the hook if you hand over the remainder of your drink. Capiche?"

She nearly shoved it into his chest, almost spilling even more of the liquid onto his precious coat, though thankfully not. "Yeah, sure. Now, outta my way, dick-face."

She attempted to stray right on past him, but was halted dead in her tracks by his iron grip around her right wrist. His hand was alarmingly cold and his hold was overwhelmingly firm.

"Hey! I gave you the bloody drink, now sod off!"

"I see we've got the cleavage on well-display tonight, don't we?"

Her face went a deep shade of magenta, yet she forced herself to look downwards to confirm his accusation. Sure, her girls were presented more than what would've been allowed for a regular class day, but it wasn't like sternly old _McGonagall_ had said anything to say about it earlier when she spoke with her. She looked appropriate enough. In fact, she looked smashing.

"Keep your eyes _up here_, you twat!" she bit out, directing her pointed index finger in front of her green hues.

"Ooh, embarrassed, are we?"

"Merlin, I've been talking to you_ far_ too long. Forget you."

"Agreed." He laid a free hand on her lovely buttocks. "Now beat it."

It took all the will she had to refrain from attacking the haughty prat like a pregnant spider going after a newly arrived fly on her web. She huffed out angrily and stormed off, to join Hermione who was also marching up the stairs seemingly upset, for one reason or another.

* * *

She remained on the floor inside of that dark, compact and stuffy closet for the whole of the hour, right until the bell rang to indicate the end of class. She unwrapped her arms from their hold on her chest-brought knees, wiped her tears away and ignored her aching and throbbing areas as she brought herself to her feet and gathered her book bag. She departed the closet sniffling and on wobbly, vibrating feet. She knew his blows and kicks would leave bruises, and she didn't have any more time to care. There was nothing Madam Pomfrey could've done in the infirmary but give her perhaps a small dose of an alleviating brew and some healing creams, and as for the assault and abuse she had to endure at His wrath, she could always tell Dumbledore, but he had enough on his hands already, and she didn't really want to give him any more trouble just yet.

Besides, she would be getting back at him soon enough with the evidence that he had fallen gracious towards the Dark Lord. Once she had this dirt on him, she'd call it officially even.

* * *

"Antonia, you're bruising right here."

Ginny's fingers lightly skimmed the left side of her cheekbone where she'd been punched earlier. Antonia had to quickly make up an excuse, so as to not stir up a prolonged war towards the Slytherin's seeker at this hour. The thought of her two best girl friend's hurtling over there to hex the living hell out of the sly prat only gave her a sickening feeling deep within. She only wanted to forget about it anyways.

"I tripped and fell down the last few steps while descending the stairs to the fourth floor after my arithmancy class."

With that returned a set of raised brows and dismayed faces. "Are you feeling alright?" Hermione chipped in with a sympathy-laced tone.

Antonia stirred her gravy-glazed mashed potatoes and sighed, "Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm okay at the moment, thank you."

Despite the friends' kind contributions directed her way, she couldn't help but feel a tad irritated by it all. She wasn't exactly accustomed to lying to all of them like this, but she had to keep her guard down until she got the facts that she so direly needed.

Yet, it _was_ only the second day into term, so what was the hurry? She had _all year_ to catch the alleged felon in the act. That being the case, she still felt the hankering need to jump out of her seat and follow the boy out of the Great Hall, just as he was doing now.

She disregarded him. She was already acting suspicious enough towards her peers. How odd would it have looked if she _yet again_ opted to excuse herself from dinner? No, she needed to remain where she was, and block-out those persistent thoughts of spying on the enemy.

At least for tonight.

…

"But sir-"

"Take a seat. You are to receive no credit for yesterday's test considering your lack of a proper excuse for your absence."

"I have a note from Madam Pomfrey right here, professor! I am able to take the quiz at any time-"

"Take. A. Seat."

Snape's grim order forced the young witch to do as she was told without further ado. She could feel her blood boil at his annunciation that he would be taking thirty points from Gryffindor for her "unnecessary and discourteous" retorting.

He shot daggers her way just a little while longer, really making sure to stare dead into her irises, as if seeking out her soul. She watched his cloak drift hauntingly at the floor as he stalked off towards the other side of the room for the board. His stare had yet again burned holes into the roots of her mind, and it would surely take hours, or even days, to rid the mental image of his inky glinted pupils from her thoughts.

While his loathing regards towards her pissed her off to no end, she could only shudder with the other things he did. She could recall many instances where he sent a large and cold chill down her spine, the last incident taking place just last winter during her first and only Occlumency lesson.

.

.

.

_Reminisce: January of 1996 - The Occlumency Lesson_

"There is a connection between the Dark Lord's mind and your own. Whether he is as yet aware of this connection is for the moment...unclear. _Pray_ he remains ignorant."

Antonia felt cold sweat trickle down her back and the little hairs on the back of her neck raise as she watched the Professor unravel a holster containing tools that suggested he could've been a part-time surgeon. She gulped silently at the view of a rather large and pointy scalpel that glistened in the overhead lights of the office. She shivered at the prospect of him using any of those incisive objects on her delicate skin.

"Sir, if h-he is currently mindful of what's going on...will he be able to read my mind?"

"Read it. Control it…" He turned abruptly to face her and denounce, "_Unhinge_ it."

He began to take painfully slow steps towards the victimized redheaded girl. "In the past, it was the Dark Lord's pleasure to invade minds of his victims, creating visions designed to _torture_ them into madness. Only after extracting the last _exquisite_ ounce of agony, only would he have them literally begging for death would he finally _kill_ them."

Her breathing fastened once he was right before her, vehemently glaring down at her as he spoke like she was some sort of useless pile of waste. She still felt prickles elongate her entire being as he spoke on darkly.

"Used properly, the power of Occlumency will help shield you from access or influence. In these lessons, I will attempt to penetrate your mind. You will attempt to resist."

Hyperventilation had taken control of her above all else. She felt dizzy and lightheaded from her teacher's venomous instruction. The last person she wanted roaming around in her ponderings was_ this_ man.

With her senses clouded by profuse fear and a drastic rush of adrenaline, she mumbled, "Professor-"

"Legilimens!"

She yelped out as he went on to do what was promised. She saw various events that she'd experienced over the years flash right before her eyes. The focus seemed to fall on her friends, crestfallen experiences, her mentors, adults and her enemies.

Including Him.

One memory that struck her in a more negative way was one of the Dark Lord himself from what she'd seen of him on the first of September that year at King's Cross Station. He was donning a black suit and standing amongst the passing people. Her view of him was very brief, yet very traumatizing, still. She was reviewing her more emotional moments. Her prior turmoil was shown to her all again in one vivid and sadistic compilation.

She writhed in her seat and supposedly pleaded out to Snape with under such influence, her frantic state not allowing her to know for sure, but he pressed her on.

"_Concentrate_, Potter. Focus."

...

Christmas with the Weasleys with the gift of seeing her beloved godfather; that was the first portion she got to view.

"This is the Black family tree."

The entire wall was covered in portraits along with names and the dates of birth including the names of their spouses and children were painted on in the form of one large and beautifully branched tree. Antonia's eyes fell on a face that appeared familiar, but not quite distinguishable.

"My deranged cousin," Sirius informed as he took note of her eyes flashing over the attractive woman's face.

Her eyes wandered the wall as Sirius went on about how his parents were pure-blooded bigots. She watched his hand fall on what would have been a picture of himself. It was a charred and burned-in black circle with his name underneath. She saw that this had been done with a few other portraits as well.

"My mother did that after I ran away. Charming woman...I was sixteen."

"Where did you go?"

"Your dad's. I was always working with the Potters.

He went on to explain that there is light and dark inside of us all. Our decisions define who we are in the end. He fed her these wise words when she admitted that since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, she had been feeling as if his effect over her provoked characteristics that were just as dark and twisted as his. It took Sirius' advice to soothe her feelings of impurity.

"The world isn't spilt into good people and Death Eaters, Antonia. We've all got both light and dark inside of us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are. When all of this is over, we'll be a proper family." She felt a hand land on her shoulder reassuringly.

…

Now she was running down the grassy hill onwards to Hagrid's hut along with Ron and Hermione. She'd just received word that her favorite Keeper of the keys had returned from his 'journey' and was beyond eager to meet up with him. The trio stopped just outside his home and peered into the window to see that he was speaking with the dreadful and overbearing DADA scholar, Dolores Umbridge. They appeared to be arguing, and for good reason. Antonia strongly denied that anyone with a decent heart could have a nice, easygoing and civil conversation with such a vile hag.

They made fast to scat off to the side of the hut once the heavy door opened and closed, out coming the pompous woman smothered in a fluffy fuchsia twin set. They remained ducked for cover until she sprayed her perfume all over the gamekeeper's door and her own short and chubby neck before strutting off back up towards the castle.

"This is top-secret, right?"

The three nodded unanimously in turn at the half-giant. He leaned back and grunted lightly before making a statement. "Dumbledore sent me to parley with the giants."

"Giants?!" Hermione blurted, receiving three 'shh's' back her way. "You've found them?"

"Well, they're not that hard to find to be perfectly honest. They're so big. I just had to convince them to join the cause, but I wasn't the only one who was tryin' to win them over."

"Death eaters…" Ron mumbled factually.

"Tryin' to persuade them to join You-Know-Who."

"Well, did they?" asked Antonia.

"I gave them Dumbledore's message...S'pose some of them remember that he was friendly to them." He sighed gruffly and tore off a hunk of his hand-held meat and tossed it in front of his hound, Fang. Antonia didn't have to study his face long to determine that he'd been attacked during his mission. There were cut and smears of dried blood and even a few bruises covering the portions of his face that didn't contain facial hair.

"They did this to you?" she asked.

"Not exactly…" He dabbed at his bruised brow bone with the hunk of steak as Fang barked, seeming to want it more than he did. "Go on, have it then."

Thunder filled the silence and wind blew in through the hole in the window, lightly shuffling some strands of hay.

"It's changing out there," Hagrid announced as they all stood from their seats and gazed into the other room, out the window. "There's a storm coming, Antonia. And we best be prepared for when she does."

…

Along with some awkward segments including training sessions with Dumbledore's Army, followed by getting caught by the Inquisitorial Squad and its bitch of a leader then onto a scene of her kiss shared with Anthony Goldstein.

She wanted to die when she realized that her professor had to witness _that_.

Her final memory involved her first confrontation with Hagrid's half-brother, Grawp. It was almost cinematic watching herself and her friends run wildly away from the towering creature. She was just as taken aback watching the giant lift Hermione from the ground like she was a doll for the second time just like the first time in real life.

Once she was placed back down to the woodsy floor, Hermione was handed a loose bicycle's handlebars with a bell attached to it. She tuned it for the giant to hear, getting a roused smile to portray his face.

"He gets his own food and all. It's company he'll be needin' when I'm gone. You will look after 'im, won't you? I'm the only family he's got."

Antonia nodded along with her friends.

…

The sight of her mother and father in the Mirror of Erised had set her mood to a more calm one for the first time in hours. Again, she saw her eleven-year-old self touching the place where she saw her mother, yearning to feel her hand in her own.

She had almost forgotten that she was not alone.

In between her parents intruded the tall and pale man with a look of death on his face. "Feeling sentimental?" he ridiculed.

She snapped out of her trance with a powerful startle. She was overcome with embarrassment, sorrow and anger. "That's private!" she muttered, hardly able to look him in the eyes at this point.

From his stance a distance away, he complied, "Not to me. And not to the Dark Lord either if you do not improve."

She panicked when he rushed for her suddenly. She inched as far back as she could into her seat as he began pouring harsh truths like a broken dam. "Every memory he has access to is a weapon he can use against you. You wouldn't last two seconds if he invades your mind."

She forced herself to blink back the tears that wanted to escape her lids so badly. She needed to show him that she could be strong, not weak. She had to be defiant and just as nonchalant as he was if she was going to make it through this lesson.

"Lean upwards, relax and be sure to _discipline_ your mind."

She nodded curtly, though she had never been more timid on the inside. She gritted her teeth so as to try and stop them from chattering as they were as he raised his wand again and declared another Legilimens spell.

Again, she saw more unsettling recollections flash before her eyes. A close-up of Grawp, Dumbledore escaping the Ministers, training with her DA recruits, the photograph of her parents dancing outdoors around cascading Fall leaves, and a gratuitous embrace with Sirius.

Vessels erupted within her at his comment of how he may have vomited at the sweet sight of the hug. Now perhaps it was Severus who was _unhinging_ her.

"Stop it! Just stop it now!"

She was up from her seat and staggering off towards the window, away from him.

"Is this what you call control?" he jeered.

"I can't do this anymore. I need to leave..I need to rest-"

"The Dark Lord _isn't_ resting!"

While she tried to get around him to bolt for the exit, he cornered her at a table, bumping her right into a few empty flasks and knocking them over. Her heart pounded madly at his uncomfortable closeness to her. It was almost...inappropriate, actually. She decided not to fret over it too much unless his hands went on her body, and at the same time, she couldn't decline any assumptions that he just may go ahead and do that in any given moment.

She was fifteen, yes, awful young to be stirring up lustful feelings from a thirty-five year old man, certainly; however, she admittedly was more mature than other girls her age, both physically and mentally. She stood at five-foot-six and had finely-placed curves for a fifteen-year-old.

On top of that, she had been falling head-over-heels for Remus Lupin for quite some time, wrong as it may have been. Thankfully, he remained oblivious to her feelings towards him. He was seeing Nymphadora Tonks at that time, anyways, so Antonia reckoned that her feelings for him would have to remain long-unrequited.

In the meantime, she and her professor were within awkward vicinity, and it was unnerving her terribly. After a few perturbing seconds ticked on, the cloaked scholar stood back, though just a smidgen.

"Two-of-a-kind, sentimental children forever whining about how bitterly unfair your lives have been. Well, it may have escaped your notice, but _life_ isn't fair. Your blessed father knew that, in fact, he frequently _saw_ to it!"

She looked him squarely in the eyes, frightened as she was, and remarked, "M-my father was a great man."

"Your father was a swine!"

His hand went for her forearm and tightened stridently. How dare he? He was bypassing her comfort-zone by far now, and was _almost_ close enough to fairly suggest that he was right up against her. It was her turn to be assertive. What would he do anyways? Hit her? She doubted that he actually would, but if he did, then—then she could always report it to the Headmaster, of course!

With a sudden streak of boldness, she mustered, "_You're_ the swine, Severus. Just imagine what my mother would think of you right now-" She glanced down to signify her referral, "_Holding me_ like this, yelling at me as if I have actually done something wrong-"

"Insolent little bitch."

She almost couldn't believe her ears. Had he really just said that? She'd heard many insults disguised as critical comments come from that mouth of his directed to her ears over the last four years, but never such an inimical remark as such.

Her face softened in spite of bewilderment. Her eyes widened and dared to brim tears. "What?"

She felt her wrist throb from his hold on her. Letting go didn't seem to be his first priority, but she prayed that at was at least on his list of considerations.

He smirked diabolically and groaned, "I see that blasted father of yours in you. The only subtle hint of your lovely mother I can deduce is off of your physical complexion. Other than that, you are arrogant, lazy and impudent. A wicked example for society, Miss Potter." He tightened his grasp and leant in, his forehead practically touching her own. "A _b__itch_."

Before she could retaliate, she was thrown back across the office and refaced with the metal chair. She could not allow her mind to be trespassed yet again, and since this was getting her nowhere, she retracted her own wand and shouted "Protego!" his way, and now she would get to view her father bullying a young Snape rather cruelly. He, along with a few other recognizable faces including Sirius, Remus, and Wormtail could be seen rooting on her father to 'pants' the Potions-teacher-to-be and lift him into the air and dangle him airborne via impedimenta charm.

Along came her mother then, chastising her father for picking on Severus, only to be called a mudblood by Severus for defending him, when he could've-

Done it himself? Well, it certainly didn't seem that way, did it?

Intrigue had captivated Antonia wholly, even as the prof ended the memory for her. She was far too dazed to berate him for what he'd said to her mother, though she, at that time, had never felt so much contempt for the greasy git. She went numb as if all the circulation on her body had been cut off and she had to lean against the table behind her for support as the aggravated professor marched for her in a livid-beyond-belief manner.

She prepared herself for either the most scornful insults she'd ever heard audibly in her years, or, perhaps in a debauched sense, she foresaw him ripping off her silk nightgown in one sex-depraved hurl and throwing her atop the table she leant against right then, to fuck her out of her own mind and have her bleed everywhere, forcing her to give up her virginity, perhaps with her own intention, perhaps not.

However, neither of those options had been the result, for she was merely thrown out of his office, along with a jar of magical regrowth oil—to hit the stony floor. She saw little of him for the remainder of that year, except for in potions class, and boy, would those hours be awkward, even more so than before.

* * *

A/N:

_Disclaimer: All rights to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros._

I have to give my thanks to **RachaelEwe**, **dragoon109** and **GhostAvatar** for giving their thoughts.

I'd love to hear feedback and opinions at this point in the story. Thank you for staying with it thus far and have a fantastic weekend! :)

-JLM


	6. Something, Somewhere

**Chapter Six  
_Something, Somewhere_**

"Professor McGonagall, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, the Headmaster would like a word with you in his office."

"Um, did he say what for, ma'am?"

"No, he did not tell me why; he just needs to discuss a matter over with you. I'm sure it is nothing serious."

She nodded and thanked the older professor for letting her know before heading to Dumbledore's office. She recalled him telling her earlier of a proposition regarding the new Potions teacher, Horace Slughorn. Before school had started, he informed her that she would "Be his crowning jewel."

By this, she was sure that he meant that he would try and-

Wait, on second thought, she had no idea what the hell he really meant. Hopefully, now, she would be getting the answer she'd been wondering about for the past week since their discussion. She entered the passageway up to his office and knocked once she arrived before his closed door. She waited patiently until she heard him say "Come in." The first thing that caught her eyes was the display case filled with what looked to be tiny scrolls set out in an array, all glowing and visually attractive.

"Memories are what you're looking at."

Antonia turned to see her Headmaster walk out from behind the case. He then plucked one small vial from the cart and said "This one here is perhaps the most important memory I've collected." She glanced over the luminescent token he held between his thumb and index fingers. "I'd like you to see it," he added.

"Is that why you've called me down here, sir?"

"Indeed. Antonia, as I've mentioned before, and plenty of times at that, it is crucial that you understand exactly what you're dealing with. If you are to do just that, then I believe it will be of great help if you start by seeing for yourself who the Dark Lord truly is, and _was_."

She couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at him with that statement.

"Do you mean to tell me that _that _memory contains Voldemort's...life as a child?"

As her Headmaster tilted the vial to allow a billow of a smoky mist to seep down into the pit, he answered "Why don't you take a look for yourself?"

Feeling on edge, she proceeded with his instruction and warily approached the pensieve, then dipped her head down into it to be led into a rainy scene where a younger Albus was headed towards a large building holding an umbrella over his head and wearing robes that differed greatly from what he usually wore currently. He approached _Wool's Orphanage_, and then met up with its Headmistress. They were ascending stairs and speaking about a troubled boy who was currently residing there.

"I must admit to some confusion, Mr. Dumbledore. In all the years Tom's been here, he's never once had a visitor. There have been incidents with the other children...nasty things." The woman knocked on the boy's door and said "Tom, you have a visitor."

"How do you do, Tom?" Dumbledore kindly inquired. He stepped further into the room, perhaps having intentions to shake his hand for a more proper introduction. The first thing that he heard pass the boy's lips was a mere single-worded demand.

"Go."

That request was presumably meant for the lady, for she was then out of sight. Albus made himself comfortable across the boy on his bed, while the child sat at his desk.

"You're a doctor, aren't you?" the boy asked.

"No, I'm a professor," Dumbledore genially corrected.

"I don't believe you. They think I'm...different."

"Well, perhaps they're right," Albus interjected thoughtfully.

"I'm _not _mad."

"Hogwarts is not a place for mad people. Hogwarts is a school. A school of magic. You can do things, can't you, Tom? Things that other children can't do."

"I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt...who are you?"

"I'm like you, Tom. I'm different."

"Prove it."

Tom's wardrobe was then aflame.

"At Hogwarts, you are not only taught how to use magic, but how to control it. Do you understand me?"

He then began to head out, to allow his words to sink in for consideration. Yet, the young Tom had more to say.

"I can speak to snakes too. They find me...and they whisper things...is that normal for someone like me?"

The memory began to clear up.

…

"Did you know, sir...then…"

"Did I know that I'd just met the most dangerous dark wizard of all time? No."

"Started his arseholery young, didn't he, sir?" Antonia mumbled, perhaps rhetorically.

The old head wandered about his office in deep thought while Antonia yawned silently to herself. She was thankful that it was finally Friday night, and she was sure she would be sleeping in late tomorrow morning, purposefully missing breakfast even, but at least she had made plans to meet up with her friends in Hogsmeade that afternoon, for much socializing was in order after the long first week back into their academics.

"Over the course of this year, Antonia, I shall show you more accounts of the Dark Lord's earliest enactments. You may be stunned, I must warn. He took on some rather gruesome characteristics even at such a young age, as you'll see for yourself soon enough."

"Well, actually, that really isn't of much shock to me, sir...I'd already reckoned that he must have been pretty messed up in his youth...I mean, I think it's rational."

"Yes, I think you're right about that. I'm satisfied that you've realized that. Now, I have a deal of sorts to make with you, Antonia. It regards Professor Slughorn."

'_I knew it!' _she shouted in her mind.

"Um, okay...so, what do I need to do?"

"Do you recall me telling you of how Horace enjoys traits in his students that signify talent, fame and power? I then told you of how you have all three, thereby marking you an inevitable 'jewel' for him to feel the desire to prize. I'd like you to befriend the professor, Antonia. He, just as he did years ago when he worked here, is yet again reinstating his old 'club' so to speak; the 'Slug Club'. I'd like you to join. I'm sure that all you'll need to do is ask."

She was mildly addled by his proposition. "Um, sir, not that I dislike your suggestion or the professor in any way, but...why exactly do I need to do this?"

"He is holding a key memory that may hold information to the seventh horcrux. I am unable to personally obtain the particular thought from him, for he believes that I already have it. However, he has collaborated an exaggerated one. From you, I require the real one."

"And how am I supposed to gather the real one? It's not like I can just walk up to him and drain it from his forehead just like that," she stated with a slight laugh at the end.

"Precisely. That is why you are to first gain his full trust first. It will take some time, but eventually there will come a moment when you will be granted access to the specific memory that I so direly require. Have faith in me, Antonia. I'm certain we can make this work out. It's all for the best."

He held out his slender and wrinkled hand for the skeptical redhead to shake, and she did so halfheartedly.

"If you think that best, sir."

"I do. Don't you worry. This task shall not be troublesome for your case, nor his. I'm sure you two will get along greatly."

She smiled warmly at him and stifled a much-needed yawn. "I hope so. Goodnight, sir."

"Rest well."

…

Would she have to warm up to him in order to proceed with Dumbledore's wishes? Or could she just approach the Slytherin teacher and straightly ask him if she could...what was it, _join?_ his club? Well, it already seemed like the prof took a liking to her, so what damage could confronting the old geezer do?

Albus had been gentle yet adamant with his pact. She figured it wise to not postpone approaching him with her assigned question. The sooner she did this, the better. After class the following Monday on the 8th, she went up to him just after he finished discussing a matter over with another student. She lightly drew in a breath and straightened her posture, as if preparing for a job interview or presentation, then addressed her first statement.

"Em, Professor Slughorn?"

He turned from the pile of sheets layered on his desk and put on a delighted expression. At least she found it very welcoming.

"Ah, Miss Potter. However may I be of assistance, my dear?"

"Well...I was just wondering if, maybe I could...you see, word has gotten around that you are going to be running an after school club of sorts...and-"

"Ah, yes. When I taught here in the past I ran it. I've decided to go forth with it again. Some of my students have already agreed to join. Just recently, I've asked Miss Granger, and she has concurred. I have been meaning to ask you to join us as well, but you always seem to leave class in such a hurry, so-"

"Oh! Well, of course I'll join, sir! Thank you for the invitation."

She briefly embraced him before trotting off to her next class. Well, that had gone easier than she thought it would. Not that it shocked her too much, however, for she had been excelling greatly in the class so far, all thanks to her unusual yet exceedingly handy instructions contained in her outwardly ordinary Advanced Potions book. Had she not had the extra help in the notes jotted inside of the text, then she'd have likely been getting along just as everyone else did.

Exceptionally.

Her next task was to, as ordered by the Headmaster, 'gain his full trust'. Now, that seemed to be more of a challenge. She couldn't _ask _for that; he would have to voluntarily hand her the information on his own accord. What Dumbledore was asking for sounded very personal, and Antonia knew that _she _wouldn't be willing to just _hand over _her most private and confidential thoughts_ just like that._

Well, she could only wait for time to direct her from then on. She'd just have to wait and see what would happen, and only patience would tell her whether or not this experiment would work out as planned or not.

* * *

That second week crept on more smoothly than the first. Antonia's bruises were beginning to fade and her confidence was relocating its place within her. Not to be gotten wrong, she was still keeping her focus on Draco Malfoy every single day, watching out for any atypical signs that may raise alarm. So far, he seemed to be laying low from making any obnoxious attempts at misbehaving.

Then again, Antonia had to admit that his wanderings about the castle to Merlin-knew-where were fairly discreet. Perhaps she was staring at the blond boy so often that he seemed obnoxious to her, and just her. Truth be told, he was driving her mad. Of course she didn't want to stalk him like this; watch over him like she was his doting mummy, but after that little shenanigan she witnessed at Borgin and Burkes, she had to be suspicious of his actions. She knew damn well exactly what he was up to, but as mentioned, she couldn't report it until she had definite proof that he was doing as she thought.

…

Continuously throughout the remainder of that month she'd see him leave breakfast, lunch and dinner a little early so he could take care of something, somewhere. The majority of the time she'd force herself to ignore him and stay where she was with her friends, but when it grew towards the end of the month, she could no longer stand it, or sit it.

It was September 28th when Antonia had just taken a final sip of her dinner of steaming chicken broth soup when she yet again saw him rise from his seat, at the same time as always, and depart the Great Hall. She could feel herself begin to shake with anticipation. Where the _bloody hell _was he going?!

"I-I need to make a trip to the library, guys. Madam Pince told me earlier today that she'd receive the book I needed by this time, so...see you all."

She got up briskly and nearly bolted down the hall. She _was _going to catch him right in the act this time! As usual, he had taken a right once outside of the eating area, and so Antonia followed his steps. By now, she had his routine memorized. He would take three turns down the halls, then be out of sight. Antonia had hypothesized that perhaps he was going into one of the rooms and hiding out in there to do whatever it was he was doing, so she kept hot on her heels, keeping not thirty feet behind him so she could see what room it was that he was going into all these times.

Sure enough, she did indeed see him go into a classroom, one which she had not been in before. She sprinted down the hall and stopped before the door he had left open. She slowly looked inside, careful not to make any noise so she wouldn't be heard. Her heart pounded vigorously upon noticing that the room was _unbelievably _empty.

Her wild confusion eased once she realized that the door on the other side of the room had been left wide open. He had merely taken a shortcut. She sped to the other side of the class and went out the door. There was one hall to her right, but to her left, a large graveled wall. Draco was nowhere to be seen. Still, she hurriedly searched the entirety of this hallway to seek him out, and after spending nearly fifteen minutes tearing up another series of halls, not even sure which one he could have possibly gone down, she reluctantly sacrificed her hunt.

'_Damn it all!' _she scowled to herself, kicking the wall in frustration. She had been in school for nearly a month and still she failed to successfully follow the supposed wrong-doer to his final destination. She vowed to get him next time. Her sanity depended on it.

* * *

_Reminisce: Summer of 1996 - Mourning_

There she laid splayed out in a field in Surrey in her brought fold-up chair. Her stereo was tuned at a high volume and happened to be playing one of her favorite songs, Losing My Religion by REM. It was nearly eighty degrees out this day in mid-July, and Antonia decided to take up her daily mourning in solitude out in the middle of a valley over her usual spot in the corner of her bedroom in the Dursley household. She was growing tired of Vernon's constant bitching anyways.

She chugged her brought bottle of chardonnay as she wept over the death of her godfather. He had passed not three weeks earlier, and she was getting no better by the days. At least drunken lounging could distract her from the memory that still stuck-out transparently every damn time she closed her eyes. He was gone just like that. It all happened so fast.

Her drink was almost halfway gone by now, and she was feeling extraordinarily lightheaded. A girl her age most certainly should not have been drinking the way she was, especially every day. But how else was she to soothe the pain? He was the only real family she had. He was her guide to life. He was her surrogate father. Her role model. Now, she would never see him again, at least not for a very, very long time.

Her throat was immune to her binging at this point, now only tingling slightly instead of that former burning sensation she felt when she decided to get intoxicated. She sloppily swigged her tall bottle and let the bitter liquid pour down her throat all too willingly. She had taken on an unhealthy habit.

_Oh no, I've said too much...I haven't said enough._

More hot tears welled around her eyes. They were bloodshot to hell. She just couldn't find it within herself to give a single damn. She threw her head back and gazed up at her charming view of a sunset. Her view was a hazy orange with swirls of pink and red. She wisely chose to not look directly into the sun, and rather at the fluffy clouds surrounding, unless of course she wanted to take on a single characteristic of her father's, that being the need to don glasses. She rather favored her near perfect vision.

_I thought that I heard you laughing. I thought that I heard you sing. I think, I thought, I saw you try. But that was just a dream. Try, cry, why try? That was just a dream. Just a dream, just a dream...Dream._

She broke down into nearly hysterical sobs, this time falling out of her chair while doing so.

"I miss you, Sirius."

* * *

It was the fifth of October when Antonia found herself going back and forth between the bathroom in her dorm and her closet in dire search of something.

'_Where the hell did I leave it?!' _she pondered angrily to herself. She had misplaced her favorite necklace with a heart pendant that had belonged to her mother when she was a teenager, as told by her Aunt Petunia a while earlier. She wore it regularly whenever she would wear a shirt that would compliment the jewelry as she pleased, but now she just couldn't find it anywhere.

She concluded that it was not in the bathroom after tearing through the small lavatory at least three times. She went for the closet and ransacked each of her drawers in search of it. All she found was Uncle Vernon's old chibouk that she used over the summer for-

Never mind!

She had to get rid of this thing, and fast. She hadn't even realized that she had brought it along with her. She didn't even have any maryjane to use with it. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of any of her roommates finding this device, even if they didn't even know what it was. Surely Hermione would recognize the controversial appliance, considering she was from a _m__uggle _family and all, and Antonia could not bear to explain that she had taken up smoking weed when times were the roughest over their holiday. She herself understood that it was a ridiculous and even drastic measure to take, even for the death of a loved one.

It was just that natural grieving wasn't doing it for her, so she looked to alcohol and earthly drugs such of marijuana to calm her down. Nothing too extreme of course. Not that she could obtain such toxins anyways. She was so desolate over the summer that she couldn't speak to anyone, let alone her witch and wizard friends.

She panicked when she heard someone approaching the doorway. Cripes, she had to get rid of this pipe, and mighty fast. She considered the possibility of concealing it somewhere else in the castle. For now, she had to hide. She shut the closet door and kept silent while one of her roommates, she couldn't tell who, rummaged through a drawer and left. She sighed in relief, got to her feet and left the dorm.

She made her way up to the seventh floor, assuming that a flight this high would make for a grand riddance area for her technically forbidden pipe. She entered one hall, then another, then returned to the same hallway she entered, deciding to just set her pipe up against the wall in the corner. Yet, she took only a few steps out when she got the frightening gist that it may have been possible for the staff or Dumbledore himself to trace the owner of it if it was found.

No, she needed to really_ hide_ it.

She had her mind set on a cupboard, or a trunk or _something_ she could use to thoroughly keep this out of other's view, and with that, she found herself in another room. She let out a shaky sigh in relief for her quick course of action and looked around.

She had never been in here before. All around her were piles of chests, old and dusty desks resting off in the corners, contraptions and unidentifiable artifacts elongating the exterior of the far-off corners, large stained glass allowing in a considerable amount of sunlight to reflect through, creating beautiful lighting throughout the entire area, and many chairs and one large cabinet sat in the middle of the room.

Wherever she was, she knew she was in the right place. That cabinet looked promising enough to hide her shameful little secret. She scurried up to the tall contrivance and opened it up. Nothing else was inside from what Antonia could tell, so she went ahead and placed her pipe on the center of the empty space.

Just as she closed the cabinet up, she heard footsteps grow near from the other room. Petrified, she quickly hid behind a pile of unused junk and peered through an opening. She couldn't believe what, or rather, who she was seeing.

'_Draco?!'_

There he was standing before the very cabinet that she was just in front of moments before. She stilled herself on the floorboards and placed her left hand firmly over her quivering lips so as to prevent herself from hollering out at him. So this was where he had been marching off to this entire time?

She watched silently as he opened up the cabinet and placed something inside of it. He closed his eyes and mumbled something that she couldn't decipher from where she sat a distance away. He stayed where he was for not much longer than a minute, appearing to do not much more than open and close the cabinet a few times, removing things and placing them back in in those few times. Finally, once he seemed satisfied with whatever the heck he just did, he marched back off in the direction from which he came.

Antonia remained where she was for at least a couple minutes to ensure that he was truly gone before she got to her feet and went back to the cabinet. She had to know what he was toying around with. She opened the cabinet with expectations that she would find something interesting, and she had indeed.

There was nothing there at all. Not even her chibouk.

Right then she realized that Draco must have been apparating to get to where he had been going this entire time. At least now she knew exactly where to locate him the next time she'd see him jet out of the Great Hall.

And oh yes, she was most definitely going to follow after him.

…

She pined to tell her friends of Draco's plans and her secret drinking sessions, but she just couldn't find it within herself to reveal such dark and desperate circumstances. Particularly the drinking. They all knew that she was upset, of course. They all were feeling dreary as well, but not quite the same. No, none of them _could _fully understand exactly how she was feeling. She lost a family member, while to them he was just another kindhearted adult figure.

To Antonia, he was more than that. Far more. She felt a deep, unconditional connection with him. He was so wise in his demeanor and words alike; almost godly in her eyes. To her, it felt as if the General had come in and died in her lap. Yes, it was like losing a father, or in her case_, another _father.

It sucked terribly. So terribly, that she was thankful that her friends couldn't fathom her depressive ways. Hence her reasoning for closing herself away from them and the world as a whole and seeking counsel with a good fifth of vodka.

Lord, she was a mess.

A fake smile and gleaming essence was provided for the unknowing acquaintances to hide her tortured inner sanctum. She'd forced herself to snap out of it when in their presence. She had to move on at some point, right?

At least the illicit Slytherin was managing to captivate her interest lately during dinner time in the Great Hall this night on October 11th. There he was yet again up and at 'em straight off towards the entrance. So was she.

"Where are you going _now_?" Ron blurted in not angered but flustered disbelief. Ah, they'd caught her. She was certainly leaving their meals early nearly every day to fruitlessly chase after the alleged miscreant, and now the crew was beginning to find her borderline distant behavior odd.

She decided to be defiantly convincing by looking him squarely in the eyes and lying, "It's _that time _of the month, Ronald."

She strutted off leaving the male Weasley to go red-hot in the face and the girls hooting with laughter. The excuse was not phenomenal, but it worked, but only because it was obscene _enough_. She didn't have time to care for her bluntness, however. If she kept hot on her heels now, she'd surely keep up with him.

Along with that, she had her invisibility cloak with her, so she could get as close as she desired without actually touching him. She draped it over herself once she was out into the main hall. She removed her flats so her stride would go unheard to his ears. Once she was around the corner of the next hallway, she let him get ahead, for she knew where he was going anyways. She had to get to that same area on her own terms.

She allowed no more than a few minutes to pass before she headed for the seventh floor. Once she was back where she was before, she repeated the technique that she had done recently. She envisioned the room along with the chibouk and the large and eccentric tallboy she used to hide her pipe. She stood still and kept the thought clear in her mind for a number of seconds and opened her eyes to see that she was still in her place. She tried again.

Nothing.

'_Why isn't it working? Do I need a possession?' _

She grabbed ahold of her cloak and envisioned the need to 'hide' it in the cabinet she saw before. Nothing occurred. She began to wonder if she had done anything differently that evening the week earlier while she was up here. All she could recollect was her intense need to hide her chibouk, and hastily. She decided to just keep on thinking of that room and the cabinet.

She must have wasted at least forty minutes doing this.

And she honestly couldn't grasp what she was doing incorrectly.

* * *

**A/N: **_Disclaimer: All rights to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. _

I have to thank **greatzambini**, **Guest** and **bageltiger** for the lovely reviews :)

Thank you all for reading. I'd like to make a note that Toni's seemingly rebellious habits are only perpetrated due to her extreme lachrymose over Sirius' death. I don't intend to make her a deliberate rebel, simply because that is not who she is by nature. At the same time, she can't help but find the usage of Vernon's pipe along with heavy alcohol consumption to be effective pain easers. She hopes to quit her dangerous 'habits' in time.

Other than that, she is also profoundly determined to find out what Draco is up to for mere reasons of vengeance. She wants him in as much trouble as possible for matters beyond just the bullying he's treated her with since first year, as well as reasons that will be revealed and examined more clearly later on.

Until next week, then :) -JLM


	7. All of the Sudden

***Potentially sensitive themes ahead**

* * *

**Chapter Seven  
_All of the Sudden_**

'_21 October 1996_

_At least I've uncovered his little private hideout...Now to just see exactly what it is that he's been up to in there. Furthermore, I myself need to figure out how the bloody hell __I __got into that room… I am assuming that there is some sort of pattern or routine I need to go through in order to go back._

_It's not getting any easier. I've never missed anything or anyone so much in my life. Every morning that I wake, I look back to that night, and I want to go back and see him again. And since the angels have no intentions of returning him back to me, I can't help but wonder if it would be so bad if I thought of joining him. _

_Fuck, what I am I going to do? My stock is drying out quickly. I've been meaning to get out to Hogsmeade soon to em...restock up...then again, I don't suppose I can easily get away with alcoholic beverages unless I steal them…_

_I can't do that._

_Ok, this Halloween I'm going to The Three Broomsticks with the gals, Mione, Gin and Luna...maybe I can get a few mouthfuls of firewhiskey while there…? ;) te he..I'll be seeing._

_As of now, I've got priorities that I need to see to for the rest of this month onwards to the next. Albus wants me to be a part of this 'Slug Club' or something bizarre like that. Personally, I could pass up the offer, for I have other matters to address at the moment, (like catching Draco in the act and preparing for the second war). How much can I handle, really? Lord, maybe it's time to get my chibouk back and find myself a dealer!_

_Or a could always just cope like an adult._

_I don't know...I'm just so lost at the moment.._

_~Antonia'_

She slammed her diary shut with that final note and carelessly tossed in onto her dresser. She placed her wand aside it and shuffled in her sheets in a futile attempt to get cozy. Ever since her godfather had passed, she sought difficulty with getting any shuteye. That's right, she'd developed a bout of insomnia.

More than anything else, she was exhausted from all the pain she was it even normal to cry _this long _over the death of a loved one? She wasn't entirely sure, nor did she really care. It wasn't like there was anything she could do about it except drown out her sorrows with her best pals Chardonnay, Champagne and Merlot, and she was running low on all three.

She closed her eyes and settled into her mattress as well as she could, and after a large handful of minutes came and went, she finally drifted off.

…

"What the bloody hell are you doing, Malfoy?!"

He dropped the unidentifiable possession at her out-of-nowhere command and spun around to face the redhead standing not a far distance off by a dust-covered lampshade.

"How did you get in here, Potter?" he spat, his tone full of contempt but his expression denoting more alarm.

She crossed her arms and swayed over to him slowly, going the same pace that he did during their confrontation on the train on the night they arrived weeks earlier. His eyes raked over her body that donned nothing more than a thin silk satin nightgown. Her feet were bare and pale in the moonlight and her skin had an alluring glow about it. Her decolletage was entirely naked and just a hint of cleavage was out for foreign eyes.

"Just the same way you did, love. I walked."

He whipped his wand out and jabbed it at her jawline. "Don't you fucking get smart with me, now, _Potter_," he sputtered the 'P' just as he always did, as if spitting out something that tasted disgusting.

"Don't act like a fool, then."

He growled threateningly at her and pressed his wand harder against her angular jaw, though she winced none. "I'm warning you, bitch. One more little remark and I'll hex the piss straight out of you."

"But I don't even have to pee, Dra-"

"SHUT UP!"

She watched him calmly whereas he shook in his stance, looking like he was about to wet all over the front of his pants himself. Her gaze landed on his gritted teeth. She couldn't help but giggle at his poor attempt at looking all macho and aggressive. It was quite adorable, really.

"I know what you've been up to. You're a Death Eater now, aren't you?"

She dared to close the distance between them and wrap her fingers around his left wrist. They began to unfasten the sleeve's buttons and slide the cloth up his arm.

"What are you doing?!"

"Shh. I just want to see it."

She gently turned his arm to face the ceiling, revealing what was undoubtedly a traditional Dark Mark on his inner forearm. She could feel agitation emanating off of him as she trailed her fingers over the nefarious symbol. His mien went stoic and he could only feel comfort at her delicate and soft touch.

"Draco...why did you do it?"

"I had to."

"Why?"

He retracted his arm from her hold and backed away. Unfazed as she appeared, on the inside she was reaching her boiling point. "Dammit, Draco-"

"Go on! Just—just get out!"

She impulsively went on to throw her arms around the tall adolescent's shoulders and ram her lips into his. He may have been consumed with bewilderment at this, but he painstakingly moved his lips back against hers in turn.

He let his hands wander down to her waist and rest an inventive yet sultry idea implemented in her thoughts, she allowed her hands to linger as well. She chose a more promising place to rest her hand. She groped his pant-clad manhood, earning a throaty groan in turn. She massaged his covered pride and glory and mumbled "Now tell me."

Getting the gist of her clever plan, he disgustedly shoved her away from him and muttered, "You lousy whore! Filthy, temptress slut!"

Wide-eyed, she decided to reinstate her innocent act with, "Rethink your wording, lovely. I'm still purely virgin."

No longer able to stand her irksome statements, he snarled the impedimenta curse, knocking her off her feet and backwards to slam the floorboards with a hard thud. He stormed off, leaving her to shout, "I will find out your motives! I will!"

…

All she could think about that next morning during breakfast was how she could get ahold of some _Dreamless _sleep potion, because this was the second dream she had that involved kissing the enemy, and this time, _she _was the one putting the moves on _him_.

Her stare was lost on her bowl of oatmeal, studying the swirls of cinnamon like she had a test on it that day. Her friends seemed to take notice of her distant behavior that morning.

"How's the monthly dilemma, Toni?" Ron teased.

"Ronald! How very crude of you!" scolded Hermione, while the other girls couldn't help but chuckle.

"It's fine, thank you," Antonia answered confidently.

Her meal just didn't appear to be the slightest bit appetizing this morning, so Antonia opted to, as usual, scoot her bowl off to the side and rest her head in her palm. Hermione was a tad cautious this morning, it seemed.

"Antonia, you should at least eat _something_. Lately you've been so lax with your diet."

"Thanks for your concern, love!" she chimed in her singsong tone, half sarcastic, half genuine.

"Well, she ought to be. You look like you've lost some weight. You've picked up a habit of picking at your food then taking off somewhere at least fifteen minutes early for nearly every meal almost every day. We're only wondering if you're alright," Ginny declared wholeheartedly.

Antonia felt speechless. She really didn't have an excellent excuse for her reclusive ways. If she were to tell the gang about her endeavors chasing around the blond prat they'd likely chastise her in turn, telling her she's being "obsessive" or "too paranoid", and maybe she was. This was too important to her to just abort now. She was slowly garnering clues anyways. She already discovered his undisclosed destination, so she figured she was at least off to a good start.

"I-I've just been upset over Sirius' death, is all. I'm okay, everyone. I highly appreciate your concern. I really do."

Empathetic nods returned her way, then conversation was again normal. Antonia purposefully straightened up her sluggish posture and told herself to get her act together. She may have been mopey on the inside, but she damn well wasn't going to flaunt her lachrymose mood to the clique. Whatever happened to the fun-loving girl with high spirits that her friends saw not even two years ago?

She dearly missed that time when things were alright. Certainly, she faced difficulties since her first year with word of You-Know-Who surpassing everyone's lips. Rumor had it that he would be returning in some wicked form, and soon, and it had , before it did inevitably occur, Antonia had to admit that she was actually happy with her life.

She adored magic from the day she'd discovered that it exists. All her life, she'd been raised to be "normal" in the eyes of her aunt and uncle. There was _most certainly _no such thing as magic. She wasn't even allowed to go through those phases where children believed in such whimsical anomalies and characters such as Santa or the Tooth Fairy. Her Uncle Vernon was particularly harsh with teaching her real from fake. Hell, she wasn't even allowed to watch _Disney Films _in her youth!

Looking back, her first ten years were somewhat miserable and very dull; nothing a child should ever have to undergo in her opinion. Hagrid had saved her from an even more boring and sad adolescence, and she couldn't regret any of what had happened over the last five years, minus the deaths of Sirius and Cedric, of course.

She remembered a time when she was full of life. She couldn't stop smiling, even in Snape's potions classes, frequently getting points from her House taken away for laughing out loud at Ron's little tidbits and jokes he'd whisper at the most inappropriate of times. She even found her little arguments with Malfoy during those classes entertaining, whereas now she did all she could to avoid confronting him entirely, excluding her need to stalk him while going unnoticed.

"So, under Dumbledore's recommendations, I am joining Professor Slughorn's little club," Antonia announced while absentmindedly swirling around the last few spoonfuls of her oatmeal.

"He asked me to join last week, and I, em, didn't want to turn down his offer, for it may have seemed, well,_ rude_, so I too will be joining," Hermione replied. "You know we're having our first dinner party this Friday at 6:30?" she added.

Antonia was slightly taken aback. "Oh really? He failed to tell me...we don't need to um, dress up formally for it, do we?"

"Well, I'm wearing my best outfit just to look...presentable. I would wear a flattering dress just to-"

"Got it. I shall dress to the hilt. Impress the crowd, even. Thanks for the tip, Hermione," she joyfully chipped in, though on the inside she was and had always been far from 'formal'.

* * *

"And what about you, Miss Granger? What exactly does your family do in the _Muggle World_?" Horace threw at Hermione, who was sitting across the table.

'_Blunt arse…' _Antonia thought, distraught at her professor's tone at his final two spoken words. What exactly did he have against muggles? While he didn't give off that pure-blooded bigot vibe, she sensed that he still had some form of distaste for non-magical folk.

"My parents are dentists," she answered.

Everyone seated around the table gazed confusedly at her, except Antonia.

"They tend to people's teeth," she confirmed awkwardly. Antonia couldn't help but smirk at bit at the situation.

With a highly cocked brow, the professor went on to say, "Fascinating. Is that considered a _dangerous _profession?"

"No. Although, one boy, Robbie Fenwick, did bite my father once...He had to get ten stitches."

Antonia wanted to cough to clear up the terrible brief silence that cruelly settled in. Luckily, at that moment, Ginny had arrived to distract everyone from Hermione's 'confusing' memoir.

"Ah, Miss Weasley. Come in, come in."

"Look at her eyes; they've been fighting again. Her and Dean," Hermione whispered into Antonia's ear.

After Ginny apologized for being late, Antonia mumbled "She ought to get back together with Michael. I've heard some nasty things about that Dean fellow."

"You don't suppose he _hits _her?"

"Domestic violence? Lord, I hope not. The girl's _fifteen _for goodness sake. Too young for such stress."

Antonia then thought of how ironic that final part of her statement was. She was going through a tremendous amount of stress at the time, and hell, she was just _sixteen_. Yet, her circumstances were nonviable of assistance. She had to face these things, such as Voldemort and the lame dinner parties with the whole 'Slug Club' membership, because she was honestly required to. The Chosen One she was, and she had duties to accomplish in turn.

…

'_Alright. Just take a deep, wholesome breath in. That's it. You can do this...Yes I can. Yes I can. Yes I-'_

"Miss Potter?"

"Oh! I um…"

'_Fuck!'_

"I was just admiring your hourglass…"

'_Jesus, Albus, why?'_

"Ah, yes. Most intriguing object...The sand runs in accordance with the quality of the conversation. It is simulating the sand runs slowly-"

"Wonderful, sir! I-I think I'll be going then-"

A hand landed on the upper right side of her back, nearly knocking the wind out of her. "Nonsense! No need to fear, young lady. It's just some of your classmates...let's just say they're unlikely to make the shelf!"

Her stomach was churning into butter, she could swear. "Shelf?"

"Anyone who aspires to be anyone, hopes to end up here," he guided, waving his arm towards the shelf containing many frames of former students, similar to the one's she saw the night she first met him in Budleigh Babberton.

"But then again, you already are someone, aren't you, Antonia?"

He approached a table and poured himself a cup of tea. She was all too eager to hightail it on out of there, but she had to first take care of some unfinished business, as directed by the Headmaster himself.

Following an earthquake of a sigh, she huffed, "Did Voldemort ever make the shelf, sir?"

She paused for a few moments, drinking in his straightened posture and cessation of pouring liquid.

'_Well, go on!'_

"You knew Tom Riddle. You were his teacher."

"Well, Mr. Riddle had a number of teachers whilst here at Hogwarts…"

Dread consumed her, but she soldiered on. "What was he like?"

It appeared that she had left him speechless. "Sorry, sir. Forgive me, please. He killed my parents."

With obvious hesitation, he answered, "Of course. It's only natural you should want to know more, but I'm afraid I must disappoint you, Antonia."

He slowly turned to meet her in the eyes and continued "When I first met Mister Riddle, he was a quiet albeit brilliant boy committed to becoming a first-rate wizard. Not unlike others I've known. But, unlike yourself, a monster existed. It was just...buried _deep _within."

…

'_Well, that was bloody pointless...' _she gruffly thought to herself while heading back to her dormitory. '_Most certainly wasn't worth the hassle of wearing my most uncomfortable heels. That's for damn sure.'_

She kicked them off her sore, blistered feet and hooked them over her fingers the rest of the way. At least now she had a good, long weekend to look forward to.

More blessed rest.

And she was feeling awful drowsy at this hour, though it must have been no later than 8:00 at night. Still, she found it odd that the halls seemed bare at such an early hour, especially for a Friday night. She didn't glue her thoughts to the matter too much however, for she could always go for a little alone time in the corridors. Her hair was loose from its previous tight bun and her forest green dress was shedding sparkles fast. She began to hum delightfully to herself as she turned onto the next corner.

With what occurred next, she began to question the existence of God, Jesus, Merlin, or any sort of Lord or savior, because she _had _to run into him. While it took her a moment to be aware of what had just happened, he seemed to take course straight away.

The next thing she knew, her head was slammed against the wall and she was barricaded with his entire body, unable to move freely. Her wrists were bound above her head and the male's forehead was pressed harshly against hers.

The scent of what she deciphered as Quintin Black welcomed her nostrils and rough and jagged panting were covering her face. Her struggling yet again granted her no avail, and those moments the two shared in that compact hall closet were about to play over again.

"Why is it always _you _who stands in my way, Potter? When will you learn any better? When will you fathom the dangers of fucking around with me?"

"Oh, here we go…"

Her right cheek was yet again met with his quick backhand. "Ow! Motherfucker-"

He withdrew his wand and made his most pervasive move yet by prodding it in between her thighs. She let out a sharp gasp and felt her cheeks burn up in a combination of embarrassment, anger and...arousal?

No, Lord no…

"Get your fucking wand off of me you chauvinistic prick!" she snarled, preparing to scream at the top of her lungs.

Oh, how he enjoyed toying around with her. She hollered out for help, receiving dark chuckles in return.

"I wouldn't bother, baby. I've got the surrounding corridors charmed with silence. No one will hear your pleas but myself."

"Then I'll destroy _your _bloody eardrums!"

Before she could belt out again, an ice-cold hand was roughly crushed against her mouth. His head tilted down into her neck and his lips were brought to her right ear to threaten "If you don't take it easy on the squirming, I'll have no choice but to use the fucking imperius curse on you. Got it?"

The mere thought of him having unlimited control over her made her want to vomit. She nodded almost sheepishly and went limp in his hold.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she whimpered, losing all prior defiance.

"First things first, you're going to start addressing me by my first name, wench. I'm getting awful tired of hearing you mutter my surname like it's got an aftertaste similar to that of piss."

"More like _shit_, actually," she boldly corrected.

Her briefly regained self-righteousness was quickly subtracted with a keen whip across the other cheek, surely leaving a decent bruise.

"OH, bugger!"

"And that back-talking is also going to end. It's time you realize who you're below, status-wise _and_-" He crammed himself even further into her, "in literal terms."

"You're nowhere near _superior _over me, you damn idiot!"

Her cheeks began to go numb from all the abuse they were taking. She assumed that his hand was beginning to swell at this point. It must have been.

"I bet you're still a virgin, aren't you?" he mocked, enunciating his insult by prying her legs apart and pressing himself further against her, receiving a rather nervous shudder in return.

"None of your goddamn business, cocksu-"

A handful of her hair was tugged viciously, allowing piercing pain to wring through her skull. Panic enveloped her entire being for the billionth time that year alone. She guessed herself to be the unluckiest girl in both the worlds at that moment.

"You're a bloody ignoramus, you are. So stubborn. So pathetically stupid. Can't comprehend a single bloody direction given to you!"

"ROT IN HELL!" she roared.

"One more remark from that filthy mouth of yours and I'm dragging you down to the nearest closet and screwing you out of your fucking mind, whether you _want it _or _not,_" he growled.

"Ooh, you want toscrewme? Is that what this is all about? After all these years, am I all of the sudden beautiful to you? Am I no longer the ugly, pasty wench that I formerly was?"

Something in that statement alone had set something off in him. His desire to deflower her with taunting, angry and ceremonious sex in one of Filch's supply closets was overcome by his indefinite vow to prove her wrong. He stood correct, _always_.

He released his grip on her and let her slip down to the floor. He backed away, spat on her shoulder and grumbled, "Never would I do that to such a vile, useless, blood-traitorous bint."

He was down the hall just like that, leaving her be.

She brought herself to her feet with weak legs. Her hot and throbbing cheeks and aching arms were no match for her newfound depression. She blinked back tears, refusing to let such a loser be the cause of her crying yet again. She practically staggered back to the Gryffindor Tower, groaned the password, wobbled inside and pushed past hoards of people in the common area to get to her personal cupboard.

She cared not if she was seen. She knocked over the box of crackers in the way of her mini winery and garnered her flask of peppermint schnapps. She then stumbled up to her dorm and went inside quickly, thankfully finding the room empty for the time being, and she grabbed her bathrobe and a towel along with some lilac bubble bath, then rushed back out of the common room and headed for the Prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor. She was hitting the _elaborate _tub tonight, and she was going to get a nice little buzz too. Who cared whether or not she was caught?

She'd luckily overheard what the password supposedly was just recently. She tried "Raspberry beret," and it had worked. She stepped in, closed the door, and prayed that it automatically locked on its own somehow, for the last thing she needed that night was old caretaker Filch wandering in to catch her in the nude. She shrugged off suicide as the way to go if that were to occur.

She recalled using this lovely spa-like lavatory back in her fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament when Cedric Diggory gave her the password to use, instructing her to use her Golden Egg in the bathroom. Results had proven to be quite beautiful.

Now, she was still not a prefect, not captain of the Quidditch team, and most certainly not a Head girl, but she just couldn't find it within her to give half a shit. She needed to bathe-out her stress. And she needed her peppermint schnapps to assist her in doing so.

She stripped and left her clothing feet away from the large pool-like tub and stepped into the paved stoned flooring of the bath. She turned the jets on and sat down once they began to spew colorful, steamy waters.

With little time she felt herself submerge into the balmy water. She poured a good fourth of her bubble bath in and wafted around to suds up her bath. She relaxed into a rather lazy position and closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall into much-needed euphoria.

Eventually, the jets stopped running leaving Antonia to rest soothingly against the brimstone ledge in chest-high water. She occasionally opened her eyes to grab her flask and take a gulp of her beverage, then immediately reblinded herself to lone, heavenly bliss.

Once on the brink of falling into slumber, she heard a girl's giggle. Just when she disregarded it as her imagination, she heard it again, even louder. She grimaced. She could interpret that irksome schoolgirl chortle from anywhere.

"...Myrtle."

"Your breasts have gotten bigger."

* * *

A/N:

_Disclaimer: all rights to J.K. Rowling etc. etc..._

Thank you** bageltiger** and **The Things You Wish You Knew** for reviewing. :)

As of now I have chosen every Friday for updates. I'm wondering if I should lengthen the chapters or leave them as they are...? Express that if you wish, as well as anything else regarding the story.

~Salutes, JLM


	8. Hallows Eve

**Chapter Eight  
_Hallows Eve_**

She defensively shot her hands over her bare breasts and scolded, "_Observant_, are we?!"

More childish laughter sounded before a giggled, "Long time, no see!"

Antonia rolled her eyes as the young ghost floated around her hyperly. It had been nearly two full years since she had last seen the usually whiny ghoul, but it wasn't like they had a lot of catching up to do. Myrtle was a deceased twelve year old girl and Antonia was a long-suffering albeit alive sixteen year old. Though the two differed greatly in personality, one thing stood out between them in similarities.

Voldemort.

Yes, He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named had affected them both in unspeakable ways, and while there was really nothing Myrtle could do to get her comeuppance, Antonia still had her chances, though all were very slim for the time being.

"You don't belong in here, do you, Annie?" Myrtle cooed teasingly while gliding down to settle into the bubbles around the stark girl.

"Speak for yourself, sweetie. What's a twelve-year-old girl such as yourself doing roaming about every lavatory in the school like a smarmy old cleaning lady?"

"One can get quite lonely when just sticking to one bathroom _all _the time, Anne. I enjoy my freedom, thank you."

Antonia smirked and nodded understandingly. She slowly eased up and let her arms rest at her sides once the wily spirit went on about her business playing in the suds. Suddenly, her transparent eyes landed on the shiny flask that sat on the ledge of the tub.

"What's that?"

Not wanting to raise any alarm or provoke a fit of accusatory guffaws, Antonia simply answered, "Juice."

"Mm, I thought only alcoholic drinks were held in flasks like _that_."

Well, despite her age and lack of a physical brain, she was a worldly girl, Antonia had to admit. She sighed, "Okay, yes, I've got some peppermint schnapps in there, alright…"

"Peppermint schnapps?"

"Booze," she clarified.

"Ohhh...I see. You've taken on _that _sort of habit, now, have you?"

"Don't ridicule me, little lady. I'm under extreme turbulence right now."

"Enough to _drunk _yourself out?"

Those words actually stung. Maybe it was because they were true, and harshly so.

"You wouldn't understand, Myrtle."

"Wouldn't I? I've been stuck here in this castle for over _fifty _years. I've had plenty of time to understand the things I see and the conversations I hear. I know much more than you think, dearie. I've just been flying around absorbing knowledge like a sponge."

Antonia couldn't suppress a chuckle at that. She had to admit that Myrtle, though a moaner, was usefully wise for a girl her age. It had been over five minutes since she last sipped her drink, yet she felt that polishing it off could wait a little longer, for she was enjoying the sober presence of another.

"Are you drunk right now, Annie?"

Well, was she? She had chugged nearly half the damn bottle already, so…

"Most certainly not."

"Are you _sure_?" she giggled at the her last word.

"...No."

"Drunk as a skunk! Drunk as a skunk! He he!"

Antonia sank down deeper into her bath and sighed dejectedly. Who cared if she was a tad tipsy? It wasn't like she had classes the next day. Not to mention she was certain that she wasn't the _only _buzzed girl in the house, or really, all the Houses. And unlike the others, she was drinking to alleviate the pain, while the others did for petty merriment.

Draco. Stupid fucking Draco. This was his fault, really. What was this, the _third _assault? Including that clear as day dream she had where he raped her in her own goddamn bed. This was getting to be too much.

She snapped out of her daze when she saw that the ghost was trying to grab for her flask. "What are you-"

"Oops! Clumsy me!"

The flask had knocked over into the bath. Her drink was now spoilt.

"Dammit, Myrtle!"

She immediately regretted her word choice when Myrtle began to throw one of her notorious fits right then.

"Eeeeeeep! How _dare _you?! It was an accident! I meant no harm!"

"No, no, Myrtle, I didn't mean to-"

"Ooooh, bother off!"

She sank into the water and began to wail just like she usually did whenever she was even the slightest bit upset. Chills sputtered down Toni's back and she felt dread course through her rapidly at the thought of someone hearing Myrtle's thunderous sobs and rushing into the bathroom to investigate. If she was lucky, a prefect would be the one to burst in through the door, if not, then Argus would be the one to catch her shamefully nude.

And she doubted that he would be quick to remove his eyes from her naked frame.

"Shh! Myrtle, hush! You're going to attract some negative attention!"

"GOOD! I hope that old and grumpy man with the pretty kitty comes in here to see your big ol' bosoms and arse!"

With that horrific and realistic muse, she hopped out of her bath and snatched her robe and clothing.

She was out in an instant.

* * *

_Reminisce: Spring of 1996 - Godfather, fallen_

A thick cloud of darkness swooped down around them, proceeding to cloak them in sable fog. She struggled to clear up the pitch-black air all around her along with her recruits. During the swarm, she laid on the ground, clutching the glass ball tight in her hold. Once the mass had cleared, she rose to her feet to see all of her friends at some Death Eater's mercy.

Luna, Hermione, Ginny, Ronald, Neville—all of them; they were all held threatening in the grasp of the enemies. Antonia stood alone at this moment, frightened to hell.

The silence was then broken by perhaps the darkest chuckle she had ever heard in her years. She could detect it, however. Ah, yes. How could she not have picked up on that overbearingly harrowing tone of his.

"Oh, did you actually believe...Were you truly naive enough to think that _you _stood a chance against _us_?"

He was in her view now. That bleached shampoo commercial hair of his, those gleaming gray eyes that reflected pure condescend, the ivory skin tone and the long nose. He stepped before her onto a higher ledge, stooping a good six or seven inches above the girl now, and he held out his hand.

"I'll make this simple for you, Potter. Hand me the Prophecy, or watch your friends _die_."

The emphasis he put on that final word make her cringe. She peered around her surroundings. Those looks. She ignored Neville's plea to refuse Lucius' request, and went on to hand him the crystal ball with great reluctance.

He, in turn, held it up and closely inspected it in the moonlight. At that moment, a bout of luminescence flashed out of the blue behind him. Antonia's heart fluttered at the next set of words she heard.

"Get away from my goddaughter."

She could not refuse a triumphant smile to play along her lips at that moment. She felt even more enlightened at the crack she heard following her godfather's keen fist-throw directly at the callous snoot's face.

The entire area was then lit up with thick streams of light that shot all around, wiping out various Death Eaters and successfully knocking Lucius forward to drop the godforsaken Prophecy. She recognized only a couple people who revealed themselves upon dissipating their glowing forms. She saw Remus and Nymphadora, and couldn't quite see the others due to the immediate frenzy against the enemies following their arrival.

Sirius quickly pulled Antonia to the side and told her that she needed to take the others and leave.

"What?! No, I'm staying here with you!"

"You've done beautifully, Antonia. Now, let me take it from here."

They were nearly struck by a hex at Sirius' final word. There, off in the nearby distance stood the blond _Ken doll_-wannabe, a prideful grin smeared on his face. Consumed with adrenaline, fury, bravery, passion, and a number of other things, she began to shoot hexes towards the man alongside her trustworthy surrogate father.

Sirius managed to successfully disarm the opposition, and came close to knocking the tightarse straight on his buttocks, until, from off in the distance, a woman howled "Avada Kedavra!"

The victorious smile he was wearing began to fade, and with just another few moments, the rest of him did as well. He had merely been stunned, yet by tragic fate, he had stumbled through a curtain of inevitable demise. Antonia stood amazed as her beloved guardian began to drift off through the Veil.

And in that moment, he was gone.

…

She arose from her sleep with a sobbing gasp. She had dreamt of that night yet again, just as she had been doing for weeks since his passing. Her pillow was soaked with tears and her head ached terribly. She knew she'd require a good bottle's worth of pepperup potion to ease the pain for this migraine, having been induced by not only her excessive alcohol consumption but her disastrous reenactment of a nightmare.

Though with the woeful results that memory had left her in, she only craved the other half of her lost schnapps.

* * *

"Can you get the rest of these buttons, 'Mione?"

They were due in the common room to meet up with Ginny and Luna in less than ten minutes for the party that was being held in The Three Broomsticks. It was to begin at nine and end Merlin knew when. Antonia was glamouring one of her mother's old satin dresses along with a pair of magically fabricated wings attached to the back of her gown.

"Are you sure we should be doing this? We _do _have classes tomorrow…" Hermione declared while hesitatingly zipping up her own ebony garment along with the smearing of some of her muggle-worldly _Revlon _lipstick to her lips.

"Toss that to me," Antonia stated, overlooking her friend's wariness. She was going to have some well-deserved fun tonight, dammit. If her bookly friend wanted to stay there and spend Halloween night drinking pumpkin juice and snacking on stale pastries with a group of second years then so be it. Antonia was hitting the town that night.

"And what if Filch catches us on the way out?"

She snickered lightly in return at that while applying more mascara than she normally would to her lashes.

"We'll bribe him if that happens, love."

"With what?!" Hermione challenged with a familiar hint of seriousness in her tone.

"...Oral?" Padma chipped in giddily, leaving all the girls to cackle like bona fide witches, except Hermione.

"Ick, I bet his willy's all covered in boils and cold sores of all sorts!" announced her twin sister, Parvati.

"Can't imagine his 'shroom _tastes _too well either. Man looks like he hasn't had a bath since nineteen-seventy-"

"Enough! Please, God, stop," Hermione groaned.

"Yes, girls. Have we forgotten it's _Filch_ we're talking about, here? I mean, if we're going to talk about dick, then can't it at least be of someone decent?" Antonia articulated.

"Like whom? Crabbe?" Padma inquired cleverly.

"HA!" Antonia and the girls burst, minus Granger, doubling over in laughter.

The night had just begun.

…

"I don't think my invisibility cloak is big enough to cover _us all_," Antonia confessed to the six girls while on the verge of leaving the common room. In response, the Patil twins rolled their eyes and Ginny made a grab for the drapery and unraveled it.

"Let us see for _proper _confirmation, Toni. Come on, girls. We must _really _huddle together," she declared while holding up the cloak in front of her.

A sigh blew out of the cloak owner's mouth as she squeezed in along with the others. It was a fruitless ordeal, for the cloak had covered not even half of their bodies up.

"You see, you silly girl? Let's just beat it already before the old haggard freak starts his patrolling and _does _catch us dead in our tracks," Antonia gruffed out receiving five nods. One Weasley girl was still determined, the true little Gryffindor.

"Then we'll _crawl _underneath it. Anything to keep out of sight from the _other _You-Know-Who."

The girls scoffed, Antonia the hardest. "Yeah, like _that _won't take an eternity. It'd be dawn by the time we've made it to the Main Hall...I'm out."

Antonia departed the common area and portrait and descended the stairs, along with the others. It wasn't like they were the only ones leaving; people from every House could be seen exiting their rightful portraits and descending a staircase to head to one place or another. Surely Filch couldn't catch them the girls had made it outside indeed. There were a few carriages outdoors for use and Parvati had managed to find a chauffeur that would direct the horses to the village at this hour.

Once in Hogsmeade, the girls chipped in their pay for the fare and journeyed out to the pub. Many other students were all geared up and parading into the party as well, so their 'sneaking out' didn't seem like _such _a crime. Inside, the ceiling lights were dimmed and old fashioned folk music was playing. Nearly every table or booth was full, though there were plenty of stools open at the counter, so the ladies took their seats there.

The Patil twins didn't remain seated for too long, for they were both eager to hit the dance area and find a couple of charming lads to partner up with. Antonia sat in between Ginny and Hermione while Luna had strayed out to the final seat, away from them all, again in her own blissful world, it the clock's minute hand had made a good dozen rounds, Ginny spotted her boyfriend entering with a couple of his friends and was quick to excuse herself to join him. The two watched as she approached him lovingly and planted a kiss on his lips.

"And unless Luna gets her lil' bum over here, it's just you and I, huh?" Antonia asked the girl seated aside her.

"It would appear so...I should have stayed back and studied for the assessment I have in arithmancy tomorrow."

"I'm sorry to say that I _almost _agree with you, Hermione," Antonia murmured back sadly. Suddenly, the young and attractive bartender approached Antonia and asked if she'd like "The usual?" She nodded in turn. He then looked at Hermione."Would you like anything?" he asked.

"Oh, just an ice water, thank you," she replied frivolously.

Once he was out of their view, Hermione leaned in and whispered, "The usual?" with a raised brow.

"Well, I come here often, you see, and-"

"Here ya go," the man interjected, setting her drinking down as well as Hermione's along with a wink.

"Thank you, Killian," Antonia chimed. She then dug through her purse to pay for the drink, but he ensured, "I've got this, lovely."

Blushing, she allowed him to pay and mumbled another quick, "Thank you!"

Again he was gone. Antonia then said, "He's been flirting with me for quite some time, you know. I think he's cute and all, but I'm not certain whether or not I really want him getting into my knickers, _yet _anyway." She giggled at the end.

"Well, I'd hope not, Antonia. He looks _at least _ten years older than us," Hermione addressed with her usual concern evident.

"Ha, but I think that's for _me _to decide," she teasingly remarked, then moving on to sip her mysterious dark orange beverage.

"What is that?" Hermione asked sternly.

"Oh, just some pumpkin juice with a slight mixture of rum," she admitted with no hesitation, astounding the bookworm greatly.

"But—Doesn't he know you're still _underage_?"

"He he, no, actually. He _thinks _I'm eighteen. Let's just say that a while back I may have put a little, harmless spell on him to let him know how old I am."

"Antonia! What—shame on you! I can't believe you cursed someone into _thinking _you're of legal age! That...that is so wrong!" she scorned, with a bit of jealousy obvious in her voice towards the end.

"Relax, 'Mione, jeez, would you like me to do him for you too?"

"You can't be serious-"

"Obliviate," Antonia whispered whilst directing her wand towards him.

"What in God's name are you doing?!" Hermione spat.

"There, now he thinks we're both _adults_, happy?"

"No! No, I'm not! I-I'm appalled at such a rudimentary course of action! I-"

"Killian! My friend here would like some butterbeer with a hint of brandy!"

All she heard from her friend beside her was a sharp gasp. Killian handed her her fancy drink with no questions asked.

"Antonia, I can't believe you...did that."

"You'll thank me later. Now, drink up."

With that, Hermione could only take slow and regretful sips, really making her glass last, unlike Antonia.

…

"It's nearly midnight! We should be getting back."

"Just _one _more daiquiri, 'Mione!"

"Lord, you've had quite enough already! We have classes tomorrow, remember?"

"Hmph, perhaps _you _do. I think I'm going to have to pass."

With wide-eyes and an agape façade, Hermione said "You've picked up a nasty habit, you have. How long have you been doing this?"

"Doing wha**t**?" she slurred.

"Drinking...coming here. Getting wasted."

The first frown of the night struck the semi miserable redhead, and she answered "Since just late last spring. After _He _died."

A sympathetic expression was gifted to the still seated girl. Hermione was on her feet and ready to leave, while Antonia still had some 'party' left in her, which may have included another set of alcoholic beverages.

"Antonia, I—_we all_, understand the difficulties of your loss, but intoxicating yourself isn't going to benefit you. You're only going to wreck yourself-"

"Stop it! You—you don't know! You don't _understand _what it feels like! I-I've been through indefinite, indwelling hell for the past five fucking months because that psychotic cunt killed the only family I had left!"

"Please, Antonia, just come along back with me-"

"You go. I'm staying, Hermione."

"And just how hammered do you plan on getting, then?! You're too young to be consuming _so much _alcohol, Antonia! You're going to drown out your brain cells!"

With the solemnest of expressions, she in turn mumbled, "Just gotta hit the right patch of nerves and all will be well."

Speechless, Hermione turned on her heels, leaving the inebriated girl to herself. She sighed gruffly to herself and glued her eyes to the tablespoon of lite alcohol that her friend had left in her glass. Of course, Hermione was never much of a drinker, for she had felt that getting a buzz would "hinder" with her studies, the studious extraordinaire.

Really, Antonia decided that she'd had enough for the night, not because she had classes the next morning, but because she was nearly cockeyed drunk. She hadn't stood in nearly two hours, and she had to urinate like there was no tomorrow.

'_Okay, you can do this,' _she had to tell herself before stepping down from the stool. Once on the ground, she felt the tingling sensation in her legs go wild, and she damn nearly stumbled. Luckily, someone had caught her fall.

While sluggishly leaning into her captor, she laughingly said, "Thanks, I'm sorry. I'm sort of feeling a tad dizzy at the moment-"

"Yeah, I can tell."

She knew that voice. She horrifically whipped her head up to look him straight in the eyes. Fury coursed through her bloodstream in an instant.

"_Malfoy!_" She took a crooked step back and fiercely backhanded him. "Away, you vile prick!"

Rolling his eyes and sardonically holding his hot cheek, he scanned the bar whilst muttering, "Where's a closet? I need to drag you off to someplace private and teach you a lesson _yet _again."

"I think not!" she chortled. "We're out in public, you damn fool! Hit me here and your arse is in trouble," she taunted, proud of herself for being invulnerable in his presence for the first time in a while.

He glared daggers in her face at that. She had never seen him so livid. His gray eyes looked like they went a shade darker and he bared his slightly crooked teeth. He then leant in and whispered "The next time we're alone, I shall strip you bare and use a motherfucking riding crop on your little bare arse with you spread submissively over my lap."

She was then shoved roughly into the counter before he stormed off. She wasn't about to let him win this one that easily. With drunken self-authority, she hollered, "I know what you're up to, Malfoy! It won't be soon before long before you're caught and thrown into a cell with your daddy! Then both your arse's will be _in _for it!"

He stopped dead in his tracks by the entrance. Without turning around entirely to face her, he cocked his head to the right in her direction and smirked. Oh, how delightfully hammered she must have been to produce such a _hazardously _bold move. The clueless bint. Didn't she know what she was getting herself into?

He chuckled darkly to himself before loudly snarling, "That the best you've got, Potter? Just more cheap insultery regarding my father? Don't you think that's getting a tad old by now?"

"No, but _Lucius' _bum is probably looking it, judging how much cock its been taking."

She had gotten a rise out of some of the people around her with that one. She giggled to herself, for being drunk as she was and still capable of standing up for herself effectively. Draco then began to laugh to himself, but not because he was turned aggressively on his heels and confronted the proud young woman with his most forceful blow yet. The hit had knocked her clean off her stool and down to the cement floor. She squealed out in pain once crashing down to the ground with a rough thud. Her drunken daze prevented her from getting back up to her feet quickly, thereby leaving her meek to face the peaking adversary from above. Her vision was blurred due to immense intoxication and she was quite weak along with that.

"Get up," Draco ordered coldly.

She flailed her arms at him in a sloppy and feeble attempt to throw him off. "Go away! Shoo, M-Malfoy! I'm too damn tired to fight with you right now," she whined.

He knelt down and took her chin in his hand and gripped tenaciously. "I want an _apology _first."

She spat in his face, fending him off little. "Piss off."

He only tightened his hold on her and warned, "If you don't start behaving yourself this instant, you're going to be in for a torturous night, love."

She looked him daringly in the eyes and replied, "So be it. You've already degraded me in every way possible. What else could you possibly do to me?"

Her inability to think clearly as well as think through what she was going to say before ruthlessly blurting out was only endangering her more by the second. Little did she realize she was the lamb and he was the lion in this situation. Or rather, perhaps he was the large and venomous python and she was the meager little mouse.

He took hold of her dress and yanked her up along with him in one vicious tug. "You're coming with me."

"Hell no!"

"Hey, man, I think you need to leave the girl alone."

Draco spun around to face a stouter man somewhere in his early twenties. His face contorted into one of rage and he withdrew his wand, then held it against his cheek while jeering, "_You _stay out of this or else I'll-"

"What? Tell your father?" Antonia finished.

He didn't reply and instead secured his grasp around her left wrist and promptly swayed for the door, dragging her along with him. The cool fall air hit her face once the two were outside of the pub. She did attempt to pull her hand out of his hold, but didn't manage to free herself. He was fuming, she could tell.

"Hey, I left my purse inside, you dolt! Let me go! I need to get it!"

"You can get it later."

"No, Draco, someone might steal it!"

He groaned audibly and turned back around, bringing her along with him. "_I'll _get your fucking purse, Potter. Don't you think that you're going anywhere out of _my _sight."

He held the door open and mustered "Accio!" Her purse was flung at her in a matter of a few seconds from its spot on the floor at the counter. It hit her chest harshly, nearly knocking the wind out of her, then they were back on the gravel road instantly.

The town was busy with folk tonight, even at this hour. Antonia struggled to keep up with her captor's long and rapid strides. Her inebriated state and her sore feet could only allow so much swift agility, not to mention she was wearing her tallest heels as well. She felt that she was going to stumble at any given moment.

"Would you quit jerking me around like I'm some neglected dog on a leash and cut this shit out?! I need to get back to the school!"

"I don't think so, Potter. You need to be disciplined after tonight's nasty little hijinks."

"You're kidnapping me! I hope you realize that! I-I can scream anytime I like!"

"So do it then."

An adamant Gryffindor she was, and a challenge she always accepted. She took in a heap of air and let out a mere squeak before she was reeled around the corner of an antique shop, slammed against the freezing brick walling and treated with a lengthy, cool hand, crammed painfully against her lips.

"That's what I thought! Now, I'm going to give you a _fair _warning now, Potter. If those daunting lips of yours don't stay shut for the remainder of the trip, then I'll have to use the bloody langlock hex on you, understood?"

"Where are you planning to take me?"

"An old, abandoned shack just around the corner. We'll need to cut through some woods to get there, now come on-"

"Wait a minute now-"

He strode again bringing her with him. "Why are you taking me there?!" she asserted, though she knew deep down exactly what he was planning. He didn't respond. "Fucking hell, Draco! Let me go this instant!"

They sped down a barren trail just past Dervish and Banges. They were now away from all the commotion of High Street and scurrying down a secluded alleyway, onwards to some lone, rickety shed where she was going to be likely forced to allow him to ravish her in any way he pleased on the dusty floorboards. The thought made her quiver internally, but she knew well that he had quite a bit of power over her, especially when in this manner.

"Alright, I'm sorry for insulting you and your precious father, now let me be!"

"I don't want to hear any mentionings of my father again, Potter!"

"Ooh, bite me!"

With his ominous, cunning ambition, he agreed to do just that. He rammed her into the nearest oak tree and held her in her place with both his hands locked around her upper arms. She gasped out at his sudden move, then did so again when she felt his tongue graze along the right side of her neck. She frailly retaliated for the umpteenth time, again getting nowhere on her part. She winced and kneaded her palms against his chest once he bit into the delicate flesh on her neck. She had seen those gnarly marks from time to time on her roommates' necks and shoulders in her dorm room, but she herself had never received a lovebite.

"M-M-Mal-"

"What'd I tell you?" he growled. "You're going to start calling me by my _first _name, and you're going to do it respectively too."

She fell flaccid against the cool bark of the tree and closed her eyes to envision the boy ravenously assaulting her neck to be anyone else. She tried her current lovelorned crush, Remus, but that didn't seem possible. Draco differed far too greatly. His scent, his feel, his demeanor, his appearance, his age, even his height, for her love interest was both taller than him and around twenty years their senior.

An uncertain amount of minutes ticked on with her allowance of Draco's advancements. So far, he'd only just begun by devouring each side of her neck, then he moved on to kiss her full on the lips with her hesitant obligation. She knew his actions would only escalate from there on if she didn't do something quickly. He'd either take her right there behind the oak in the grass or he'd drag her off to that dreadful shack in which they'd undergo rough and non-consensual intercourse.

She despised this boy with her entire being, so she wouldn't settle nicely for either.

She had go forth with that one instigation that would get the best of him every time.

"You should really watch yourself, Draco. I'm only warning you because soon enough your behaviors will become obvious enough for the staff to notice, and then before you know it, you'll be handcuffed to a metal seat at the Ministry, then sentenced to life in Azkaban along with Blondie."

He stopped sucking on the sensitive area of her collarbone and his hands ceased their passionate rubbing against her pert backside. His mouth latched onto her left ear and hot pants hit her lobe along with another threat.

"Mention my father again, Potter."

"You're _almost _as pathetic as him."

And she'd made him snap. He dug his trimmed nails into her shoulder blades and jerked her away from the tree, into his arms and off her feet. He carried the drunken girl through piles of colorful and crunchy leaves further into the forest. He halted at the top of a hill directly underneath a full moon.

"As theoretically beneath me as you are, Potter, I must say that when the time comes that you are _literally_ thralled under my rule, which will be in very short time by the way, then you will be scarred mentally as well."

He then combed her hair out of the way from the faded scar on her forehead and ran his tongue along it while prying his fingers against the pantyhose covering her womanhood. He then grumbled, "See you later, _Potter_," before tossing her down the steep hill.

She could do little to steady her tumble, for she was too weak both physically and mentally to use any more of her long-gone strength. When she did eventually come to a rough halt at the bottom of the hill, she sorely rose to her feet and gazed upwards to thankfully see that the bastard had been out of sight. She leant against a willow in an attempt to rid her profuse dizziness. The loads of alcohol she'd consumed along with the rest of that night's escapades had left her in a sickly, messy state.

After spending what could have been five minutes crying intensely, she took slow and sturdy steps back up the hill, only to double over and vomit halfway up.

This was perhaps the utmost worst Hallows Eve of her life.

* * *

_A/n: _

I give my thanks to **redhotreader**, **bageltiger**, **Guest**, **Guest**,** Forevermore** and **Guest** :) I adore the support!

*Happy Independence Day to fellow Americans and have a lovely weekend to the rest of you!

~JLM


	9. Calamity

**Chapter Nine  
_Calamity_**

'_Blast!'_

She stumbled over her own drastically aching feet for the thousandth time in less than an hour. She had to admit that she hadn't been _this _hammered since the night after Sirius' death. It had turned out that a night out that was supposed to be fun turned out to be quite the contrary. In fact, at this moment she had felt incredibly miserable.

Upon rising up from nature's carpet yet again, she decided that it would probably be best to just remove her pumps, regardless of the broken glass bottles and incisive shards that littered the streets of Hogsmeade. The streets were dimly lit by the lampposts alongside the sidewalks on either side of the street she was trudging down. The shops and pubs were still active though the excitement had died down slightly over the past few hours.

She was ignorant to the current time, and didn't have the courage to ask someone around her what it was. She felt broken down, desolate and hollowed out. She couldn't understand why she always let him go so far with her. The peppery taste of his mouth still swished around in her own, and it only made her want to vomit some more. Lord, he was repulsive. The very sight of him always made her insides tighten up with odium. Why had he just started to act so strangely towards her?

Then again, had he really _just _started?

Thinking back to earlier years, he had seemed to show his true colors towards her, though always in provocative and poorly discreet ways, always ending his statements with a roughly spat, "_Potter._"

For the moment, she had to stop thinking about the abusive prat and concentrate on getting back to the school. She was very fortunate to see a few late-duty carriages left so she could make it back to the school without having to walk miles throughout the remainder of the chilly night. She was just a short distance from a ride with just a few open seats available when she came to a horrific realization.

Her hands were not holding one of the money-wielding possessions she had with her earlier.

Just when she thought her luck couldn't possibly get any worse, she discerned that she had left her purse at the bottom of the hill.

"**_Bloody hell!_**"

...

It must have been nearly four o'clock in the morning by the time she had made it back to Hogwarts. She had no choice but to ride along with a pack of heavily intoxicated Slytherins, all of whom she hardly knew except for Crabbe and Goyle. She was crammed in between the two moronic purebloods, forced to tolerate their grabby gestures and unbefitting advances on her, luckily only going as far as Goyle unhooking one of her bra fastenings before he was rewarded with a sharp backhand across the face. At least she could thank her lucky stars that Draco was not aboard.

Upon arrival, she fled out of the carriage and bolted for the entrance. She didn't even care whether or not the goddamn caretaker would catch her. She had no damns left to give.

* * *

_Reminisce: September 1st of 1991 - Rejecting Draco's Handshake_

The castle's interior had captivated and amazed the young witch just the same as the exterior of the building had. Everything from the gigantic doorway to the wide and cemented staircase had thoroughly exceeded the auburn-haired girl's expectations.

She knew this 'Hogwarts' school that taught 'witchcraft and wizardry' had to be of some oddities and abstractions that she never knew of in her first ten years of life. Yet, she didn't expect anything as extraordinary as this. In fact, she had been set to start the fifth grade at her public school, Portsworth Elementary. And there, just like in all of the other previous grades, she would have been harassed by her cousin and his gang of bully comrades and teased by the other female classmates for being mousy and unusual.

Now it seemed that her outcome this year had made a turn for the better. She could start fresh. Others would accept her for who she was, considering they were all capable of doing the exact same things that she could do. Magic was very real, peculiar as that may have seemed, and young Antonia was not unhappy about it.

Antonia was paying close attention to the elderly lady wearing a forest green cloak and a traditional witch's hat atop her head who called herself Professor McGonagall. She wanted to know all she could about Hogwarts, and that included its guidelines and what there was to know about these so called 'Houses'. She eagerly kept her ears open for the woman before her, even choosing not to laugh at the boy who called out "Trevor!" and made a mad dash for his toad, awkwardly interrupting the hostess.

Once the lady was gone, a blond lad a ways to her left suddenly projected "It's true then! Antonia Potter has come to Hogwarts."

She blushed at the newfound attention she was receiving, and she was presented with gasps and shocked mumbling over handshakes and warm smiles.

Right then, the same boy strayed casually in front of her, smirking and holding out his hand. She recognized this boy from one of the book shops in Diagon Alley. He gave off an impression of immense arrogance and prejudice against muggle-borns, as he had said for himself, and that had bothered the kindly hearted Antonia straight away.

"This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle." He smiled and looked right into her eyes. "And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Light scoffing could be heard from directly aside, causing the cocky youngster to give Antonia's new ginger-haired friend a look of pure detestation.

"Think my name's _funny _do you? Like I need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe...you must be a Weasley."

'_What a little shit,' _Antonia couldn't help but think before she was his attention again. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the _wrong _sort." He again averted his reference to her redheaded acquaintance.

"_I _can help you there." His hand went up again, as if proposing a deal of some sort. Frankly, the only thing she could imagine doing with that hand of his was magically forcing him to shove it deep up his tightarse. And she may have even considered doing that for real had she been currently aware of the Imperius Curse.

She stared at his hand only a little while longer, not contemplating whether or not she was going to shake it, but rather how she was going to turn down his un-dignifying offer. For the time being, she decided to just keep her reply simple, yet forthright.

"I think I can tell the _wrong _sort for myself, thank you very much."

…

And at that moment, she had earned herself a long-term enemy, who was now unhealthily infatuated with her. Sometimes, she wondered what would have happened if she _had _shaken his hand that fateful evening five years earlier. Well, chances were she would have joined the Slytherins and never have even been friends with Ron or Hermione, or really any of the other marvelous Gryffindors she knew. She may have grown cold and, God forbid, snooty, just like the majority of the Slytherin House, particularly including the potential Death Eater himself.

She'd likely be all whored-out; her best friends being Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode for Christ's sake. She'd be Draco's willing girlfriend and proud sex slave. Why, they'd probably be banging away on the Astronomy Tower at that very moment—had she shaken that damned hand of his that night.

Here she was now, making her way up the Main Hall's wide staircase alone, frigid, unbelievably sore, and exhausted. She could hardly maintain a straight line during the ascendance. Her heels were sloppily dangling in the rims of her fingers in her left hand, while her right hand supported the railing to the side on the wall, for she most certainly required the extra support after that wild night out.

She had just barely reached the eleventh step when she heard a grunt from down below. And boy, had it scared the bejesus out of her. She paused and grumbled a handful of curses to herself before reluctantly turning around to see the creepy caretaker and his hideous feline.

"And _where _have we been tonight, darling?" he crooned mockingly, a lit torch held firmly in one hand while his cat was cradled dotingly in the other.

"None of your damned business," she frustratingly snapped back, then went on to indifferently climb the stairs, leaving him likely astounded at her retort.

"Come again, love? Have you _forgotten _who I am?!" he hollered from his spot down below.

"Oh, of course not, Argus. Who could forget a man of your insolence? Of your ghastly appearance and ugly demeanor? And who could believe that that _dick _of yours gets handled by ladies on a frequent basis?" she decided to teasingly add in, really risking the severity of her inevitable and fast-upcoming punishment by the lot.

She had to smirk while watching his expression divert to one of pure vexation. His cataracts could be seen more lucidly and his entire being seemed to shake, though that may have just been Antonia's still prevalent drunkenness clouding her perception.

"What did you just say?!"

"Can't handle an insult, old man?! I told ya to go fuck yourself, you worthless pile of nargle defecation!"

"Oh, you wait until the Headmaster hears about this!"

He began to storm up the flight, causing Antonia to fumble around the contents of her purse and obtain her wand. From five or so steps higher, she aimed her wand at him and hoarsely growled, "Obliviate!"

She then stepped down a few steps and stated, "You saw _nothing!_"

With that, she hurried back up the stairs and sped for her dorm.

She collapsed onto her bed once she was back in her safe haven. As assumed, her roommates were all tucked away into their beds already, except Padma, who could've very well been spending the night with some gentleman she met back at the pub, for she did hold a tendency for being promiscuous.

Antonia hadn't even bothered to remove her dress or wash off her smeared makeup. She needed rest and she needed it now, anything to get her head to _just stop spinning_.

…

"Antonia!"

She stirred slightly at the calling of her name, but didn't fully awaken until she heard, "Antonia! You need to wake up!"

Her eyes shot open only to re-close at the brashly sunlit room that made them burn terribly. Hermione, fully dressed in her proper school attire, stood by her bed. Antonia turned over and groaned lightly to herself, feeling the full and brutal effects of a hangover that had decided to settle in.

"I was going to try to awaken you before breakfast, but you were far too out of it. But we have class in twenty minutes now, so-"

"Hermione, I can't."

"Well, I _told you _that you shouldn't have stayed out so late last night! This is the consequence!"

"Don't berate me…" she moaned, with her face smashed into her mascara-stained pillow.

"How late did you stay out?"

"...Mm, I think I..._ow_, returned at around four or so."

"Good Lord! Ugh, do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?"

"Do you have any Tylenol?"

Hermione sighed and went to dig around in her dresser for her bottle of muggle pain relievers. She handed the ill girl glued to her mattress the bottle and told her that she'd be back with a glass of water. She was already out the door before Antonia could request that she'd prefer a mug of steamy coffee. She fished around in her purse that was carelessly tossed next to her bedside dresser not many hours earlier. She retrieved her wand and mumbled a quick charm to close the curtains, for the sunlight was only intensifying her migraine.

She didn't want to fall back asleep; she just wanted to lay and rest. She was thankful that Hermione was courteous enough to travel to all of her classes for her and excuse her for being absent. She just hoped that she wouldn't be _required _to stay at the infirmary, for she strongly favored the comfort of her own mattress and privacy of her dorm. Not to mention the hospital wing was always so damn bright, and light was really the last thing her sore eyes and aching head needed at the time.

Five minutes had gone by until Hermione returned with her water. Once she set it down on her nightstand, Antonia jokingly said, "Bring any chianti I can mix in there?"

She giggled to herself whereas Hermione gave her a dour look.

"Antonia...I hate to seem pious, but I have to tell you that you may have a drinking problem…"

She laughed. "Oh, Hermione, don't be pitiful!"

"No, I'm serious, Antonia. Look up at me."

She rolled her eyes before meeting her green hues with her friend's light brown. "You've picked up some alcoholic tendencies since Sirius' death. You've been isolating yourself from Ginny, Ron and I as well. We've all noticed, Antonia. What you're doing is harming you in ways you fail to recognize, but only because you've been blinded by grief. I want to help you, Antonia-"

"Shut up. I'm just fine, Hermione. You're all mistaken."

"No, Antonia, listen to me. If you don't get help soon, then I'm afraid you'll fall into a perpetual depression-"

"And who cares if I do? Let's wait and see what occurs when you lose someone dear to you, hon! I-I cannot even _express _how-how painful it is!"

"I know that. I understand what you're saying, but I can still help you if you'll just allow me."

Antonia rolled over to face the other side of the room. She had tried to keep it all a secret, but she must have been acting far too obvious. She reckoned that it would only be a matter of time before her friends discovered her stash of booze that was still currently hidden away in the small cupboard out in the common room. Of course they'd all know who they all belonged to.

Clutching her sheet and reeling it further up her body, she grumbled, "You should probably get to class, Hermione."

All that could be heard for the next few moments was the breathing between them. Hermione walked off towards the door and advised "Just get some rest," before leaving. Stress loomed through her brain thanks to her wise best student in their year's preaching. While she was well aware that she had a dire problem that could potentially plague her either soon or sometime in the future, she herself was insightful enough to know that more damage was absolutely the last thing she needed, right before getting raped by Malfoy and captured early-on by the Dark Lord.

* * *

_Reminisce: Aftermath to Sirius' death_

"ANTONIA! Come out _this_ instant you lazy sloth! You've been cooped up in there for the past FOUR days!" her aunt roared through her door.

It had been just five days since the passing of her godfather. In four days and four nights since then, Antonia has locked herself away in her bedroom upstairs at the Dursley household. She has not eaten or drunken anything in that time, she has opened her eyes little, and she has seldom changed her crouched position in the corner. She has not changed her clothing in the last one hundred and twelve hours. She has not laid down on her mattress, and she has not even taken a seat in her desk chair. The hard, wooden floor has become her nook, and she has been possessed by overwhelming gloom.

She also finds it incredibly effortless to pay no heed to the overly exuberant aunt.

"You listen here, young lady, if you do not come out of this room in _five _minutes, I'm going to have your uncle tear the godforsaken door down!"

Yes, that threat was quite tempting indeed, but not enough to provoke the somber girl to rise from her curled up posture and depart her space. She waited for her strict bitch of a guardian to stomp off back down the stairs. Her jean-clad knees were damp with her tears, and even beginning to sustain an odor from the constant wetness. She didn't care, however. The scent of mildew was the least of her worries. She was really becoming sore all over due to her lack of movement. Her muscles were just begging to be flexed, but she felt that she needed to punish herself for letting _Her _off the hook.

Bellatrix.

Why hadn't she done it? She had her wand pointed straight at her! All she had to mumble was that one _simple _word. She would have avenged his murder for the love of God!

'_Maybe I could have done it if motherfucking Voldemort hadn't __**taunted** __me so...But...would Sirius have settled with that?'_

With that consideration, the tears began to flow wildly yet again. She fell to her side, still curled up into a fetal position, and she began to wail into her knees. She was crying so much that it was starting to hurt. Her voice was gone, her chest ached, her eyes must have been bloodshot at this point, her cheeks felt wrinkly from being drenched on the constant, and she felt extraordinarily malnourished and dehydrated. In fact, she was weeping so much that nothing more could drip from her eyes but a few slight droplets at a time. Her lack of water had began to deteriorate her physical state. Eventually, she would not be able to shed tears at all.

She shuddered uncontrollably in her crumpled position on the floor. All she could see was that she closed her eyes and when she opened them, he was in her view. That fading smile of his before he slipped through the Veil. It was tearing her apart.

She relaxed from her bound position on the floor and laid on her side. Perhaps some sleep would distract her? She had to give it a go. It was only a matter of time before she would lose her mind entirely if she couldn't get the traumatic, reenacting visualizations of that night out of her head breathing steadied and she managed to make herself comfortable within a couple of minutes. She kept her eyes shut and did what she could physically to get her body to shut down and rest for a while. In these hectic four days, she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep either.

She was on the brink of drifting into an unconscious state, so close she was, until she heard a thunderous bang at her door that shook her wide awake.

"POTTER! I don't care if it was your bloody _headmaster _who kicked the bucket! Your aunt and I refuse to allow you lounge around in that bloody room for all eternity! You're fast becoming a burden on the family!" Vernon shouted from outside.

Burden? _Dare _he!

"Go away!"

"If you don't open this door-"

"JESUS H. CHRIST!" she screamed while crookedly rising up from the floor. She marched for the locked door and threw it open.

"A _burden _you say? I have not _eaten _a single damn crumb in nearly five days you OAF! I have been in here, minding my own business in fact! Completely out of your hairs'!"

A thick, purplish finger was nearly shoved into her face. She refused to meet her outraged uncle's eyes with her own, for they'd likely be crossed again in the same way that they always were when he was furious.

"We refuse to house a mindless derelict, Antonia! You best straighten up your act _and _attitude unless you'd like to take to the streets!"

"I just lost my _godfather_, you pile of lard!"

His fisted, plump hand just about went for that small nose of hers until Petunia managed to coax him otherwise. At that moment, their doorbell rang from downstairs. The aunt scurried down to answer it while the uncle shot one last deathly look at the woeful girl before treading away. She sank down to the floor and yearned for the presence of someone who actually cared for her.

She decided to spend the next hour or so in the bathtub. Lord knew she probably stunk to the high heavens. She grabbed a gown and fresh underwear from her drawers and locked herself into the hallway bathroom and sat down inside of the tub with the virtually scorching jets pouring down on her. Her legs were crossed and her head was tilted forward. Maybe she could seek some shuteye in here.

Her solemnity was again interrupted by the aunt's curt knocking.

"Antonia! Hurry up! You've got a visitor!"

'_Ron and the twins?' _she wondered, for they were the only ones who knew exactly where her residence was located at the time.

Nonetheless, she hurriedly stood and scrubbed away at every square inch of her body with her strawberry splash body wash and shampooed her hair diligently. She then rinsed off and scampered out of the tub to dry herself off. She would have used a quick drying spell if she had brought her wand with her into the bathroom, but now she had no time to waste. The Dursley's were fairly stringent and would surely give the cold shoulder to anyone from the magical world, so Antonia feared that her guest would be in a rush to leave if Vernon and Petunia were giving them too much trouble.

Chances were, they were.

She patted her hair to the point of adequate dampness and quickly dressed herself before exiting the bath to skip down the stairs and see-

Remus.

She froze in her tracks. He was the last person she had expected to see. He was seated at the dining table with one leg crossed over the other and a Daily Prophet in his hands. Her cheeks went rosy once he noticed her. He did not appear too kempt himself. While he did sport different clothing from what he wore five days earlier, he was otherwise unshaven with dark circles under his eyes and evident frown marks on either side of his lips. He smirked upon seeing her.

"Antonia."

"R-Remus, I d-didn't know you were coming! Um-"

"Ah, I'm aware of just how _kindly _your aunt and uncle take to owls… He he, so I assumed that stopping by in person would've been a more suitable course to take."

She chuckled briefly along with him. She nervously combed her fingers through her damp tresses while standing at the kitchen's threshold. She noticed that Vernon and Petunia were nowhere in sight. She was thankful for that.

"So what brings you to Little Whinging, sir?" she asked him sweetly, though she was very concerned for his answer at the same time.

"I understand that you must be grieving tremendously, Antonia. I just wanted to see how you're….handling the death-"

"Please. Please don't say it."

Tears brimmed her eyes and she felt nauseated. Her plea was chock-full of grim indication, and Remus had picked up on that immediately, straight after her first 'please'. Of course he felt the exact same way, for he himself had just lost a best friend of the last twenty five or so years.

Rubbing the back of his neck in a slightly sheepish manner, he stated "We're holding a remembrance funeral for him in a few days. It will be held in Godric's Hollow. Would you like to attend? Or are you not feeling well enough to-"

"Oh my, _of course _I'm going!"

"I thought you'd respond as such."

"How is everyone else doing? Ron, Hermione...Neville?"

"Well, we're all doing what we can to...eh, thrive, my dear. It has been…" He paused to pinch the bridge of his nose, to most likely keep from crying, "difficult, but with time, we all will heal, won't we?"

She eyed the tiles of the kitchen floor. "I don't know if I can give you an answer to that, Remus."

"Oh, come now, Antonia. He wouldn't want you to suffer like this."

"But I just can't stop crying! It's...it's too much for me to handle right now."

She leant against the threshold and blinked back her tears. She whimpered silently to herself, causing her former professor to rise from his seat at the table and wrap his arms around her. She sobbed shamefully into his coat while he consoled her.

"It'll be alright, Antonia. We've just got to give it time, is all."

"Thank you, Remus," she softly murmured into his shoulder.

She had started calling him by his first name a while earlier sometime during her fourth year. She at first did it experimentally upon one of their meetings during a holiday break, but she allowed it to become a habit after he showed indifference to her addressing him as such on the first time.

While the two rocked gently back and forth in between the living room and the kitchen, a keen grunt sounded from the other room by the entrance.

"Would you take the girl out of here? She's done nothing but whine up in her bedroom for the past four days!" Uncle Vernon remarked angrily.

Her heart fluttered at the prospect of leaving this miserable hellhole. She craved a little fresh air and maybe even a good meal.

Remus awkwardly unwrapped his arms from around her waist and took a step back, blushing almost as strongly as the young redheaded woman. He gave a curt nod to the uncle and waited for him to go on about his business.

"Mm, alright then...I think I should put on something more, eh, presentable," Antonia said abashedly. She fought the urge to plant her visitor a peck on the cheek before rushing back upstairs to change into one of her best camisoles with a nice pair of jeans.

It was around that time when Antonia began developing feelings for the older man. A part of her knew it was wrong, but the majority of her being didn't really care. She couldn't help who she fell for. If her soul was attracted to men in their mid thirties with scruffy five o'clock shadows and light brown uncombed hair and crystalline blue eyes, then so be it. She was pushing the age of consent in England anyways. One characteristic that fascinated her about him in particular was his condition of lycanthropy. Though this 'disorder' of his was a large downfall on his behalf, she rather thought it quite astonishing. Beautiful, even. She did feel sorry for him, of course, but she admired his simpatico traits, and found that they overrode his 'dangerous' illness.

Really, she had always been attracted to _older _guys. She recalled her crush on Billy Idol from age thirteen as well as Jon Bon Jovi and Johnny Depp from her preteen to early adolescent years. She saw no real crime in her feelings. It wasn't like she was hurting anyone, was it? While all of the other girls her age wanted to be escorted to the Yule Ball by Victor Krum or Cedric Diggory, she'd fantasized about Igor Karkaroff's masculine hands resting at her sides over Finnigan's. With a more mature mind comes more sophisticated desires, she presumed.

She was hasty with dressing herself, for she didn't want to hang around any longer in this grown pit of hell that her bedroom had become in those four days. She needed to get out of the house altogether.

Not willing to waste too much time or leave Remus downstairs alone with the dastardly Dursley's, she applied some black, charcoal eyeliner and skipped the shadow and mascara. She pulled on a burgundy top with a pair of _Calvin Klein _jeans and then grabbed her favorite flats before hurrying back down to the first floor and grabbing Remus' hand and leading him out the front door.

"Ah, it is SPLENDID getting out of that hellhole!" Antonia huffed enthusiastically once the two were outdoors.

"Antonia, is what your uncle said true?"

"Oh, what? That I've been a grieving, pissing and moaning mess for the past four or so days?"

"At least tell me that you've _eaten _something."

"Does it matter, _professor_?"

He took a step before her and halted her at the end of her own driveway. "Yes, Antonia, it does matter." He shot her a look of pure empathy. "And very much so. I will not allow you to waste away all due to Sirius' death. Tragic and sudden as it was, it does not excuse you to let yourself go. If you continue to behave in a careless manner then you're bound to slip into a deep and incurable lament."

"I loved that man! He meant the _world _to me, Remus!" she cried out while leaning against Vernon's car. "Finally, after _years _of their bullshit, came along a man who unconditionally and sincerely gave a damn for my sake! And not even months ago was I sure that it would take no more than one—no more than a single fucking plea before he were to _let _me move in with him! It was all going to work out so nicely!"

"Antonia-"

"We were going to be a real family!"

"Jesus, Antonia, you already _have _family!"

"You mean _them_?!" she darkly chortled while nodding her head off towards the house. "If you're referring to the bloody Dursleys, then you're out of your head-"

"_No,_" he cupped his hands around her face and forced her to look him directly in the eyes, "me."

A few beats passed with no musterings but the breathing between them.

"Me, your friends, the Weasleys, Albus, Hagrid, Moody, all of us, Antonia. And as for Sirius, you know he'll always have a place in your heart."

He kept his hands gently grasped at her cheeks just a bit longer before resting them on her shoulders. Antonia had to admire the thought that just maybe he wasn't too willing to remove his hands from her body.

She smiled shyly and said, "Thank you for the corny encouragement, Moony. Now, please get me out of here."

Without removing his eyes from hers, he withdrew his wand and suggested, "Honeydukes sound satisfying?"

"How about The Leaky Cauldron?" she asked.

"First we're going someplace for lunch, my dear. You must be famished."

Before they apparated off, she admitted, "Maybe a little…"

* * *

A/n:

I am loving all the reviews! Your opinions and thoughts make for great motivation :)

There is one thing I'd like to clear up at this point. This is not a spoiler for future chapters, just an understatement for the overall story. Antonia holds purely loathsome revolt for Draco. By this, I mean she absolutely hates him to a crisp. She is disgusted by his arrogance, cruel nature, and his other more unfavorable characteristics.

As mentioned, Antonia has her heart set on Remus Lupin (who, yes, is quite a bit older than she is, but she really doesn't see this as a problem). It is unknown yet whether or not he returns the feelings, for that will be revealed in a later chapter.

Now, Draco (obviously) feels intensely for Antonia, yet he does despise her at the same time (this is also clear, I'd hope). He feels remorseful over the fact that he feels this way for someone who's supposed to be his enemy, but can't find it in himself to ignore his personal, sick and twisted desires, hence, his lucid display of dominance over her.

The one emotion they do feel for one another would be absolute, unequivocal anguish, the only difference being Draco accompanies lust and (maybe a little love?) with his feelings of profound dislike...so yeah.

But anyway, thank you for reading and sticking to the story, and more to come soon.

~JLM


	10. The Hog's Head

**Chapter Ten  
_The Hog's Head_**

She wouldn't have even been in such a lax condition had she not plastered herself as she did. Antonia was beginning to behave like a forty year old woman with no hint of shame left. If getting drunk and skipping class was how she was handling her turmoils now, then she was hesitant to imagine just how she would even make it through her future training to be an auror.

'_I need to pull my act together, and soon,' _she thought. '_And I can start by getting my sluggish bum out of this bed.' _

Every muscle on her neglected body twinged powerfully upon rising from her mattress. She must have been laying down for at least ten hours. She glanced at the clock to the right of Hermione's bed and read the time to be 5:56 in the afternoon.

'_Good Lord...' _she mused. She had slept through a large chunk of that day, missing both breakfast and lunch, and now had four minutes until the start of dinner. She rushed to her wardrobe to pick out an outfit, but then stopped.

'_Oh, why bother?' _she thought with a sigh that seemed to echo in her mind. '_I'm not even hungry anyways...'_

She collapsed back down onto her bed and rolled onto her stomach. With her headache nearly gone, she didn't want to rest any longer. At the same time, she didn't really want to face anyone else at the moment. They would have too many questions for her, and she was in no mood for answering.

There were so many times when she yearned for a normal life. She regretted Hagrid's first visit to her that night on her eleventh birthday in that shack that was supposed to qualify for a 'safe house'. She perhaps could have lived without a wand and an education at a school that specifies in the teachings of magic.

And really, just how horrible would her life have been if she had lived the average person's life in the muggle world? Where she would have been safe, though bullied, dull, practically invisible, bored on the daily, risking absolutely nothing; just wholesome normality…

'_Never mind.'_

…

She must have drifted off again for another hour or so, for she awoke suddenly to see that her room was darkening and the clock read 7:04. She leant up, feeling beyond well-rested. She was a tad shocked to acknowledge that she had been alone all day. No one had even come to check on her in hours.

Not even Hermione.

'_Where the hell is everyone?'_

She then remembered that it was Friday night, and surely everyone was out having fun somewhere. She slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a white V-necked shirt with long sleeves then grabbed her purse. She had all the same rights as them to have a good time.

* * *

For reasons she couldn't quite fathom herself, she decided to return to Hogsmeade that evening. She was not headed to The Three Broomsticks tonight, however, but rather the other pub in town, the Hog's Head, regardless of its much eerier status.

She decided that she would try to sneak out in avoidance of confronting any of the girls, Neville, or Ron, because she was acting shady enough as it was, and if she were to tell them that she was going out into town to get hammered yet again, they'd put a stop to it for certain.

And Antonia just couldn't have that occur.

Besides, she was going to thoroughly _limit _herself tonight. No more than _three _drinks, she would promise to herself. She had just made it through the batch of Gryffindors hoarded around the fireplace in the common room before she heard someone call after her.

"Hey, Antonia!"

'_Ah, fuck.'_

She slowly turned to see Neville Longbottom standing by a punch bowl, waving kindly at her and smiling compliantly. Oh, so this wouldn't and couldn't be too bad..

She flashed him a large and toothy grin and took a single step through the portrait, but again paused when he hollered, "Hey, wait!"

'_Lord...'_

He trotted up to meet her, taking her slightly aback when he embraced her once within close proximity.

"I haven't seen a lot of you around lately. Is everything going alright for you?"

While returning the gesture and patting him on the back quickly, she listlessly answered, "Good enough, I reckon."

He pulled away and opinionated, "That didn't sound too lively."

Shrugging, she complied, "Well, I guess I'm just not feeling as such at the moment, Neville. I've been a tad blue lately. You know, I'm still upset over…"

She huffed and found that she couldn't bring herself to finish that sentence. Neville took the message and nodded understandingly.

"Yeah, _that _hit us all pretty hard, eh? Well, where are ya off to?"

Antonia had to appreciate his effort to change the topic. She weighed her options at that moment. She could have excused that she was off to the library, or she could be truthful. Neville just may have been the most candid, trustworthy and warmhearted bloke she knew, so of course she found difficulty in lying straight to his face. Doing so would only make her feel...dirty.

"...Um, I was going to the Hog's Head, actually."

'_Damn!'_

A look of disbelief struck him at that moment. "Oh? Don't you think that The Three Broomsticks is better? Why, it's more sanitary and the beverages are tastier, not to mention they have a slight tendency to settle better in the gullet than what I've helped myself to in the Hog's-"

"No! Um..no, Neville. I just so happened to go there last night, so I, um, wanted to try elsewhere this evening."

'_Smooth.'_

"I see...Would you like me to join you?"

"Err…"

She had to think fast. Not that she would have ever minded the company of such a sweet lad, but she wasn't quite ready to confess her nasty drinking habits to him yet. She was keeping her fingers crossed that so far Hermione was the only one who knew of her problem. She wasn't and had never been much of a gossip, so Antonia could safely assume that she was keeping her shameful secret _a _secret.

A figurative light bulb had risen at that moment.

"My, I've left my galleons in my velvet wallet up in my dorm...would you go and get it? I'll wait right here."

"Um, sure, yeah, I-I'll be back in a minute," he gave in awkwardly before taking off in the other direction. She was performing her greatest bitch-move of the year so far, but she really had no other choice. She would definitely regret her course of action in the latter, certainly, but for now she wanted to focus on getting back to Hogsmeade without boarding with any Slytherins, especially a gruesome particular three in her year.

The halls were still rampant with students, and curfew was not yet enforced, so she luckily didn't need to fret about running into the git of a caretaker, at least not until later that night whenever she were to return.

She got into a carriage compact with seemingly Hufflepuffs and perhaps a few Ravenclaws, just as she preferred. Midway to her destination, she began to feel questionable about her venturing. Wouldn't it have been more rational to just remain at Hogwarts, find her friends and spend time with them? Would it _kill her _to recline alcohol for one night?

Then again, she had to recall that Hermione had made no effort to come back to their dorm all day long, not to awaken her for lunch, not to give her all of her homework, _if _she even bothered collecting it, that was not to see if she was even alright. It was easy to imagine that Hermione may have not cared for her as much as she thought given the circumstances.

Well, at least she didn't have to ponder anything while soaking her system out with her bitter friend, alcohol. Oh, did she dread the after effects of it all as time went on, however. It had taken all morning and afternoon for the panging inside of her skull to fade.

'_I do it to forget,' _she excused mentally, just as she had done many times before in that year alone. She continuously told herself this all the way through the village, right up until she reached the grim pub at the end one of the streets that happened to be missing a sign of indication.

She had to take in a few jagged breaths before entering, for the Inn itself had always given her the willies. That amputated head of a hog that was mounted above the entrance inside of the place gave her chilly inklings too she reasoned.

Once indoors, she felt a warm draft spank her face. A fire was aglow in the main entrance. She was relieved that the place with warm, from just coming in from breezy thirty five degree weather. The floor was comprised of chipped, moldy boards, many holes and cracks. All she could smell was the burning wood and a trace of cinnamon? in the air. The overall atmosphere proved to be exquisite in her perspective, even surpassing the tranquility of The Three Broomsticks, though only because there were fewer people about. Antonia had never been one for large crowds.

Up in front of the Inn was a counter for checking in when villagers needed to stay a night, and judging the creaking staircase, rusty doorknobs and even scampering rats she had seen already whilst stepping no more than ten feet into the pub, she hoped that she'd never have to check out a room for use. She'd likely leave with some sort of disease anyways.

Down the main area and to the left was the entrance to the bar. She was eager albeit wary to enter the area. The last time she came here was nearly a year earlier with her potential recruits for the league she and her closest friends called 'Dumbledore's Army'. While with around twenty two people tagging along into this slum of a place was not so nerve wracking, Antonia felt that waltzing in here alone was quite the contrary. She felt bloodshot eyes fall on her once she was straight through the swinging doors of the pub area. She guessed that the customers' average age group was around forty to fifty. She also knew that this place was regularly a hang-out for dark wizards. Rumor even had it that on occasion a troll, goblin or ogre may stroll in for a beer. She could only pray that tonight would not be one of those nights.

She thanked herself for not dressing up too sexy like she usually would have done when going out somewhere. Her grayish sweats and satin shirt were lovely, though lacking in allure. The floorboards groaned lightly with each step she took, making her one hundred and twenty three pounds sound like two hundred.

The creaks attracted some attention from the tables full of grumbling, beard-clad wizards, automatically forming a large lump in the far back of the girl's throat. She forced herself to proceed on to the front where the elderly bartender was and pay no mind to the whistlers, hooters and bottom smackers she was passing.

Dim light filled the area up front. The counter was just as worn and chipped away as the flooring. Dust covered some of the stools and formerly stuffed cotton oozed out from various scrapes and gashes due to missing hunks of leather. She had to take a seat next to a man covered in a black cloak, hunched over the counter with a tall mug of whiskey grasped securely in his right hand. She set her purse on the counter while still holding onto it, and was wise enough to keep it off of the floor, due to fear that some thief would most likely sneak up and snatch it without even making her notice.

A folded card in front of her had the labeling 'Aberforth D.'. She saw that bartender down the counter serving a few other men. She let her eyes wander around behind the counter while waiting. There were bottles of many old timey alcoholic drinks including brandy, liquor, wine, beer, rum, vodka, and whiskey. She took the time to contemplate exactly what she was going to request, while also deciding whether or not she would bother using the obliviation spell on this man. Had he refused to serve the girl if he requested a form of identification after telling him she's 'eighteen', then she may go ahead and use it on him.

Also, a glass of Merlot was sounding far too dandy for her to possibly give up.

Next to her, the cloaked man hacked and sneezed roughly into his sleeve, jolting Antonia from the suddenness of it. Wanting to give off a polite approach, she mumbled "Bless you."

Immediately, he cocked his head in her direction and fused his cataracted eyes to her own. He appeared to be somewhere in his mid to late forties with graying facial hair and gritty and rotten teeth. She winced at his creepy gesture, and inadvertently tightened her hold on her purse.

"What brings a gorgeous young gal such as yourself up n' 'ere, malady?"

Visibly shuddering, she squeaked, "Just w-wanted a drink, is all."

Wheezy, uneven laughter ensued followed by his large and crooked nose being shoved in her locks and steady sniffing to follow. That first hot blow of air out of his nostrils forced the redhead out of her seat and to the other side of the counter in a jiffy.

Already, icy prickles were elongating her arms, forming pellucid goosebumps. Both her environment and the folk occupying the room were giving her the authentic spooks. When her sight caught the bartender's, she nearly fell out of her seat with the force of the chills running down her spine.

Up close, he was not the most unsightly fellow she had seen in a while, but he did carry some minorly unprepossessing features. She took his foggy eyes for example. For some reason, Antonia had always been slightly unnerved by cataracts. Perhaps, she, like most others, just preferred seeing eyes with a clear set of pupils and coloring over the blurred and misty appearance. Yet, she was never one to judge aloud.

His beard was the lengthiest she'd seen all night. It was a deeply gray tinge and ran down past his chest, similar to her headmaster's, actually. The hair sprouting from his head was of the same color, and quite long as well, nearly meeting the length of his beard. He was of a staggering height. He glared down at the girl from his towered peak.

She tilted her head upwards only briefly before he leant downwards to rest his forearms on the counter. He met his eyes with hers and grumbled, "An' what brings ye to a shoddy hole like this, miss? Shoon't a young lady such as yerself be lounging around The Broomsticks out on High Street?"

She straightened up her posture, cleared her throat and confidently replied "I like a change of scenery here and there, mister. I tend to fancy shoddy holes and gloomy albeit atmospheric pubs such as this one here."

He scoffed in disbelief, but quickly moved on to ask "How old are ye?"

She was afraid he would ask. It _was _required in just about every bar or pub, so Antonia really should have better prepared herself. She had grown tired of using obliviation just to get her way, not to mention the guilt was really bothering the daylights out of her lately. She had chosen to be honest with this one, shrugging that she could just leave and go elsewhere if she were not served what she originally came for.

"...Sixteen."

"Eh." He leant upwards and garnered a vast, transparent mug from underneath the counter. "What'll ye have, then?"

A spark of triumph combined with befuddlement struck her.

"...You're still serving me, then?"

"Well, did ye come here for somethin' else, pet?" he nearly harassed.

Blushing immensely, she said, "Have any red wine?"

He nodded, then busied himself with locating the request. Antonia was happily startled. That had been far more easy than she had presumed before entering the pub. He set her drink down in front of her, then stood upright whilst gazing down at her.

"Thank you, Mister-"

"Ye can call me Aberforth, ma'am," he interjected humbly.

She smirked back at him before sipping her drink. It was bitter, but it also tasted of high quality, exceeding her expectations. She felt a smidgen queasy upon realizing that he was still gawking her down fervently once the mug was nearly half empty.

"What's a lady your age doing in a second-rate tavern on a Friday night anyway?" the elderly barman questioned.

Feeling suddenly embarrassed, she complied "I've been put through the wringer, I suppose."

He chuckled almost cruelly at that.

"Put through the wringer, ye say? Merlin almighty, ye say you're sixteen? Ye think you've faced a fair share of ordeals, do ye? I'll have ye know that yer so-called hardships have _just _begun."

"Well, then don't ask me what my problem is if you are only going to critique me! _I'll _have _you _know that I have lost a very close family member this year. He was only thirty six years of age, and on top of that he was _murdered_! Is that enough of an excuse for you?"

The girl hadn't meant to be so aggressive, but she couldn't help but get wound up whenever someone would raise an eyebrow to her forlorn behaviors. She was beyond frustrated. While it seemed that everyone else had gotten over and moved past Sirius' demise, Antonia cried and resorted to making poor and risky choices everyday.

Aberforth's expression transformed into one of sympathy over his former mocking look.

"My condolences, miss."

She collected herself and mentally chastised herself for being so brash.

"He was my godfather. We were very close with each other...good friends."

"I feel yer pain. I have lost many mates and members o' the kin in my years, but one that stakes me in the heart to this day is the death of my younger sister, Ariana. Just a young lady when she passed...Twas all my fault, really."

He had captivated her interest. She had went from wanting him to just bugger off to enjoying his presence.

"My apologies, sir. If I may ask, how did she…"

"Was in a rather rancorous brawl between my older brother and his close mate. She was in the room with us while we all were shooting a blasphemy of curses at each other...she was struck at some point. To this day, I am not certain which one of us shot the spell her way…" He sighed wearily. "Just fourteen, she was."

'_Tragedy at its finest,' _she mused with a sardonic touch. Ever since she crossed into the wizarding world, she had witnessed, heard of and dealt with more accounts of gruesome deaths than she had ever imagined possible. It made her feel sick.

While polishing a mug, he went on to say, "I shall warn ye now that yer not even _close _to being through with dealin' with death, young lady. Oh sure, we all _think _we've seen the worst, and we believe in our hearts that nothing will be more heart wrenching than what we've lost here, but once than Godric forsaken pendulum swings just enough times, we get to experience somethin' even more miserable."

"Thanks for the tip," she mumbled sadly.

"Eh, don't mention it. Say, what's yer name?"

She stiffened slightly, not entirely willing to reveal her identity. Over the last several years, she would only receive an exaggerated and unnecessary amount of alarm upon introducing herself, considering her parents' controversial fame.

"Antonia."

"Lovely name. If I recall correctly, it means 'worthy of praise.' It's of Latin origin, as well, I believe."

She smiled in surprise. "My, a knowledgeable man you are. Do you know the meanings of many names?"

"Eh, I'm not one to brag, but, yes. Once you've been around for as long as I have, you tend to acknowledge more than a youngster such as yerself would ever think able."

"That's quite fascinating, sir-"

"Please, feel free to call me Aberforth, madam," he kindly yet sternly put.

"...Aberforth. Have you been working here at this Inn for some time now?"

"Ah yes. This coming February will mark my eighty first year of ownership."

"Damn!" Antonia yelped out boldly in spite of being tipsy, then flushing in the cheeks thereafter while he chuckled proudly.

"Yup, been running the pub for quite some time."

Her mug was just about empty by now. Antonia decided to wait for the old man to wear out on his light fit of honorable guffaws before asking for more wine. He, unexpectedly, leant down and brought up the wine and began to refill the girl's mug before she even had the chance to ask.

"Oh, why, thank you, Aber-"

"So while I've been running my inn for the last eight decades, my brother had taken a whole different route." He coughed into his leather sleeve before continuing. "Let us just say that he's, well, always been a tad more, eh, _professional _than myself. The man was a born leader, I tell ye. Blown up with ambition and diligence. I must say, he had the kindest heart around. Even as a child, he was wise beyond his years, he was. Oh, how we fought in our youth. Heck, I _loathed _the bastard! Ha ha...we have never been too close over the years. We both went our separate ways once we hit adulthood. He took up a job as a Transfigure-hoopla-something Professor at the turn of the century, then…" He paused and took a great gulp from his own flask. "Got bigger than life itself, the overweening saint…"

His words were sounding oddly familiar to the redheaded attendee. She couldn't quite place her finger on what was so obvious, and it was beginning to irk her.

"...Bigger than life?" she inquired.

He slammed his flask down onto the wooden counter and cleared his throat.

"Oh yeah. I get folk coming in here all the bloody time yakking about just how wonderful the old coot is." He scoffs. "Say he's the _greatest wizard _of all time! Rubbish…"

It then hit her. Her face lit up while she hyperly asked, "You wouldn't happen to be related to Dumbledore?"

"Pardon? Y'know _I am _Dumbledore too! It ain't all about him!"

"Good Lord! Wow, I never knew Albus had a brother! Ha ha, that's—that's kind of cool!"

"Yeah, yeah…" he grumbled. "So, I suppose you and the old man are close, then?"

Enlightened, she said, "Yes, very, in fact."

"You attend the school, then? Hogwarts?"

Well, what did he think? That she was just some young prostitute of the village?

"Yes, sir—Aberforth. I am a sixth year student at the moment."

"Eh, that's nice. Gettin' yerself an education. Huh, I see many of my customers who've dropped out to join, _ahem_, darker forces, if ye know what I mean. It's good to see a young lady such as yerself so privileged and willing to make something worthy of herself. I can only hope that you stay out of the mitts of You-Know-Who."

Slightly dumbfounded by his final words, she meekly replied, "...Yes, I hope so, as well."

"What House ye in?"

"Gryffindor."

"Ah, I went there 'bout a hundred or so years ago. I believe I was sorted into the Gryffindor House as well. I can't be entirely certain, for my mind is, unfortunately starting to go with age."

"Well, the Headmaster was in Gryffindor, as he has told me for himself a while ago, so I think that it makes sense that you were in that House as well," Antonia chipped in, receiving a nod of agreement.

"Aberforth, why aren't you and Albus close? You're both kind and, even similar in my eyes. It seems as if you two would be the best of friends."

"Eh, our resentment towards one another dates back to our late teenage years. He started hanging around with this fellow who was quite attracted to the dark arts, name was Gellert or something of that nature. I din't take much of a liking to his mate. Got into a nasty quarrel with the both o' them the day Ariana passed away. I blame the both of them for her death. In the last century, he's done made a gigantic celebrity out of himself! Leaves _me _in the shadows so he can bathe _pridefully _in the spotlight, the arrogant geezer. The ruthlessness of it all…"

"I understand your anger, Aberforth, but perhaps the two of you could overlook your petty differences now and form a bond, regardless of what's happened in the past."

Just when Antonia had thought that her words of wisdom had inspired the old barman to take that up for consideration, he snickered mirthlessly.

"Words of inebriation, me dear. You speak as if it's possible to repair a shredded newspaper. That's how I compare the _bond _between the eldest brother and myself." He chugged the remainder of his flask and huffed out loudly. "The damage has been done."

"But, still, there must be some small spark inside of you that yearns for the sound of your brother's voice-"

"THE NEWSPAPER HAS BEEN _SHREDDED_!" he repeated blaringly, making the girl flinch at his out-of-the-blue rage. He had attracted some brief attention from the other patrons, allowing him to back down a bit and try to calm himself.

"...I see. I didn't mean to-"

"I'm not upset with _you_, Antonia," he calmly interrupted. "Haven't seen the bastard since summer of '79. I was up here behind this very counter when he came inside with a young woman wearing these thick, black framed glasses and she had this long, brown and curly hair. I-I was actually delighted to see him at the time. It had been nearly _thirty _years since our last confrontation! I thought he was coming in to, well, rekindle our lost brotherhood, thought he finally got over 'imself. I plucked two freshly scrubbed mugs from under 'ere and set them down on _this very spot_. 'Albus!' I say, 'It's been a good, long while, hasn't it?' I called. He looked over at me, for the first time since entering at that second."

A dark look overcame the barman's features.

"He did not look pleased. I'd never seen a man with such a _stoic_, _expressionless _and completely _indifferent _face as his! My word, he said 'Oh, don't you mind me, Ab. I'm only in need of this area for a short while. I've got some _crucial _business to attend to with my lady friend here.' So, offended as I was, I remained tolerant and said 'Well, why don't you two come along up 'ere and have a drink? On the house. On me.' Then what he said next…"

He popped the cork off of a bottle of brandy from beneath the counter with his large thumb and took a mighty gulp. "What that gown wearing, rump ridin' son of a wench said next…"

Antonia shook all over and strongly anticipated his next statement, and she had every right to.

Looking her glaringly in the eyes, he muttered, "You don't need to _flatter _yourself, Ab. We'll be in the back."

Antonia was at loss for words.

"FLATTER? Oh, please! Like I'd take so much pride in myself, unlike _him_! Who was he to say that?!"

He slammed his bottle down onto the fragile counter vigorously.

"Least I don't fancy a good _tumble romp _with those of the same gender!"

"...Pardon?"

"Haughty bloke! Huh...Please excuse my bitter ranting, miss. Guess I got a tad carried away this time...can happen when I get drunk enough."

Antonia was stiff as a board in her stool and just about ready to call it a night. This man had definitely needed to take some anger management courses in his down time. The towering barman glazed his stare onto his female pardon's empty mug.

"Another fillin', dove?"

'_Dove?'_

"Um...no thank you, Aberforth. It was a pleasure meeting you, and the wine was lovely!" she nervously implied, then went on to dig around in her purse for money.

"Don't you worry about that, ma'am. It's on me," he put.

"Oh? Are you sure? I mean, it's no trouble, really-"

"No, no, you're all set, madam. Have a well night. An' you be careful out there! Many a' pickpocket's out there in the dusk, as well as...eh, ye have mace or something to protect yerself with, mm?"

"Uh, well, yeah, sure I do. I'll be on my way, then! Thank you for everything!"

He saluted her off while she paced quickly out of the tavern. She managed just a few dizzy wobbles on her way out, not nearly as hammered as the night prior. She was met with a chilly breeze upon opening the door to the entrance and exiting. The start of November had really done well in flaunting the slightly unhinging coolness of the outdoors, especially at this hour.

She wrapped her coat securely around her frame and walked on into the night. The streets were frighteningly quiet as she footed her way through the dirt road towards High Street, then onto the carriages. While she did not have mace, she did have her wand handy, just in case some late-night predators were roaming about. Or Malfoy.

Nothing out of the ordinary had crossed her path in the fifteen minutes it took her to locate the buggies. To her joy, she rode along back to Hogwarts with a bundle of Gryffs'.

She did come to regret not stuffing her invisibility cloak into her bag, for she doubted she could stand another run-in with Filch. To her luck, she had made it up to her dorm without going noticed. A few people were still lounging about in the common room, for it was just twenty minutes to midnight.

Antonia was not too weary, for she had practically slept all day, yet she decided it wise to lie down in her bed and at least try to pass out, for she owed her friends herself that following day. Her introverted ways were starting to become a nuisance, she knew, and they were likely somewhat annoyed by her reclusive ways in turn.

Her roommates were, as usual, already tucked away into their own beds, sound asleep. Before Antonia was able to drift off, she couldn't help but think back to the barman's odd words regarding Albus.

'_Rump riding?' _

* * *

_Understand she'll go hand in hand, but she'll walk alone in fear_

_Where will she go from here?_


	11. So Close Yet So Far Away

**Chapter Eleven  
_So Close Yet So Far Away_**

'_Okay...for sure today! I owe them myself! And I miss them all! The arse can screw off! If he leaves, I will stay put!'_

She was practically skipping down to the Great Hall, fully eager to spend the whole of her weekend in her friends presence. She nearly stumbled over her flowy linen pants on the way down the Main Hall's staircase. It felt great to actually be in a hurry for a decent reason. It felt even better to be able to look forward to a weekend without a drop of alcohol to consume, just so long as the mates kept her preoccupied enough, and Antonia _knew _they would.

She smiled valiantly all the way up to her usual spot at the Gryffindor's table. The crew hadn't even noticed her until she took her seat next to Ginny. They all gave her a quick glance upon recognizing her sudden arrival.

"Hello all," she beamed.

"You here to stay this morning?" Ron asked tepidly, though calmly.

"Why, of course, Ronald! Um, is there a reason I should not?" she threw back in a cheerful attitude.

"Well, it's just that all this year so far you've had a habit of taking off early for one reason or another," he mumbled back in turn, then proceeded to dig into his pile of waffles that were soaked in syrup.

"Okay, actually, I do have something that I'd like to confess to…"

This got all of their attention, even Luna's, who was normally just gazing off into her own little realm or world.

"You see, I've noticed that Malfoy has been, well, sneaking off to odd places quite a bit as of the last couple months. Like I said earlier back in September, I have my rightful suspicions that he is under Voldemort's influence. So, I just need to obtain the proper proof in order to officially verify his, well, illicit duties."

"Oh, this again?" Ron sighed.

"Is there a problem, Ron?" Antonia remarked.

"Pff, you honestly believe that Malfoy is a Death Eater, Toni? I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a vain pain in the arse for sure, but we can't just _assume _that he's now one of _them _because of his outrageously conceited mannerisms."

"And we _can _just shrug off what we all saw him do inside of Borgin and Burkes, Ron?"

"_I _didn't get a clear view of him doing anything! There was a bloody pole in the way, and our already poor glimpse was cut short by that hairy scoundrel who damn nearly _caught _us!"

"Are we really going to argue about this? Ron, you have utterly detested his guts just as much as myself since our start here, so why are you being _so _skeptical about his loyalties?"

Antonia knew she'd finally gotten to him when she saw that transformed look in his face. He went sullen and unsure at the same time. Rubbing the back of his neck, he grumbled "How would we get the evidence, anyway?"

And now it was Antonia's turn to sink back down. "I have yet to unravel that, I'm afraid. Yet, I have taken accurate note of his whereabouts. He's been sneaking off to this...dark supply room. I have only been able to get to this room once before. I know it's on the seventh floor, and I believe you can only get through it if you, em, locate a portal of sorts...I'm not quite so sure how I got there myself in the first place."

A few beats of silence passed. Suddenly, Hermione's brows rose and a mien of enlightenment was displayed.

"I think you're referring to the Room of Requirement. I have read about it before, a while ago. I remember little about it, but a several things that stood out were its passage and what it can be comprised of. I believe you are granted access into the room by crossing its barrier at least three times, while envisioning what it is you wish to hide or are in great need of…"

With that, Hermione's eyes rose to Antonia's and a look of confusion sprouted amongst her features. "Were you trying to hide something, Antonia?"

The girl stiffened alertly as the gang stared her down with very intent gazes. "Um, why yes; I was wondering exactly where I could put away my...mother's amulet. You see, Lavender had been pestering me for weeks to borrow it, and I just...couldn't stand it any longer."

Perplexed looks were returned her way while she scooped spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth. "Had my fears that she would steal it, I did. Better safe than sorry, right?"

"I can relate," Luna piped it, sweetly breaking the disquieting quiet. "It reminds of my personal need to start keeping my shoes in more undisclosed places, so as to prevent others from stealing them and putting them in hard-to-reach places; of course you remember that, Antonia?"

"Oh yes. Roommates can be dreadful."

"So, what did you see him doing in there?" Ron blurted out as the conversation had eased down.

"Oh, well, he seemed to be putting something away in this large cabinet. I don't know what it was; I had to keep my guard low, obviously. I hid behind some old desks and piles of junk. I could hear him muttering something under his breath, but I failed to decipher any of what he said."

"And had stalking him proven worthy of your time?" Ron threw in, to be scolded by Ginny.

"Oh quit it, would you, Ronald? She's only doing the right thing, you know. _Practicing _for her future career." She paused to smirk and wink to the girl beside her. "If he truly is up to no good, then the last thing we need is him getting away with it."

"Damn right, Gin," Antonia chortled.

Ron abashedly picked at his waffles while grumbling "Still think it's a bloody waste of time," under his breath.

…

Exiting the Great Hall with her crew was a first for the year, and Antonia was quite proud of herself for it. Her gleeful mood was quickly washed away once she felt a feeble tap on her shoulder.

She turned around to face Neville, who looked more on the gloomy side. "Oh, hello, Neville."

"I...eh, never managed to locate a velvet wallet last night, Antonia."

Guilt struck her upon the dawning of the night before. She had practically stood him up. At that moment she had never felt so much remorse consume her all at once. How could she? Was all the *brouhaha* that had culminated her evening spent in The Hog's Head really worth declining an innocent friend, especially in such a cheap manner?

"Neville, I-"

"What? Had other things to attend to? You could have at least told me before I went off on a futile scavenger hunt in _your _bedroom, only to end up feeling like a damn fool once I returned to realize that you had scurried off to do better things."

"No, no! Not at all, Neville! That's not how it went. It was unexpected, really. You see, just moments after you left, Seamus came up to me and-"

"What? _Forced _you to tag along with him off somewhere?" he scoffed.

"Well, well, yeah! Actually, yes, he begged that I join him in…" she stopped when she saw the uselessness of it all.

"Rubbish." He brushed past her to get ahead, obviously very hurt by her rude gesture as well as her poorly attempted lying right there.

"Wait! Neville!"

She ran up to meet him, though he didn't slow his stride. "I-I'm sorry, alright? What I did was—was very, out of the question, abrupt, plainly rude, and-"

"Desperate?" Neville sighed, clearly fed-up.

"...Please, just hear what I have to say-"

"No, I want _you _to hear what _I _have to say, Antonia." He halted at the end of the corridor and turned to face her. "I like you. I-I have for a while, now. Last night...last night I, well, wanted to discreetly take you out for dinner, I don't know, somewhere nice in Hogsmeade." He frowned in a pained fashion and averted his eyes downwards in slight abashment. "You proved yourself well last night, and you gave off the impression that maybe you didn't feel the same, at all. I hinted that maybe your method of, well, blowing me off was just your way of saying _no thank you_."

Now, Antonia hadn't seen that coming. She only felt worse from it. He had planned to take her out on a lovely date, and she, without hardly a _first _thought, decided her plan would be more fun. She felt more egocentric than she could comfortably handle at that moment. Why had she been so...stupid?

"I had no idea, Neville...Really, you feel this way for me?"

His hazel eyes met hers then. "...Yes."

Her cheeks flushed to a deep shade of red at the truth. Not that she exactly had similar feelings for the amiable fellow, but that didn't determine that she couldn't work her way up to it. She had to give him a chance, and he really did deserve it, after all the cold shoulder she'd been giving him for the past two months.

"If you wouldn't mind, Antonia, I'd like to take you out on a proper date sooner or later. Um, preferably sooner."

She giggled at his proposal. "Alright, then. You have yourself a deal, Longbottom."

…

"So did you have a grand time at, eh, Hog's Head, then?" Neville asked as the two strolled through one of the antique shops in Hogsmeade later on that day.

While fumbling a crystal ball in her hands and skimming the counter for an indication of a price, Antonia replied, "I spoke with the barman there, Aberforth..._Dumbledore_."

"Aberforth Dumb—oh! Wow, I didn't know he had a brother working around here!"

"Those were my thoughts exactly when he told me. Actually, he seemed reluctant to reveal such a thing, for apparently the two don't get along very well. He told me that they just differ too much to be close, I suppose. Also, he lost his younger sister at a very young age, and he seemed to speculate that her death was all Albus' and his mate's fault."

"Ah, that's a shame. Family should always stick together, especially in times like these."

'_Forty galleons?!'_

"Ah, yes, I solemnly concur, Neville."

"I always do enjoy your unique choice of words, Toni. Sometimes you speak as if you are like, a wise philosopher or an um, highly scholastic guru, or-"

"Just a clever and sharp thinker?" she interjected, quite flattered enough by his listings.

"Well, yeah, that too," he put in shyly.

"Oh, you're a sweet one, Neville. A real gentleman."

She put the pricey crystal ball back in its place and swayed down the aisle in search for another more inexpensive product. Neville tagged along wherever she went, conversing to her on various topics and experiences over his summer and from the start of school while she silently listened to his verbal content in turn.

A dark violet shawl that shimmered from a distance in its coat of heavy glitter caught her view. She skipped over to where she saw the elegant garment by a shelf of voodoo dolls. Neville hurried to catch up with her, nearly having to bring himself into a full-on sprint to do so.

"Like that piece, eh?" he asked once right at her side.

She ran her right hand over it from its hung state on a hook and nodded. "It's lovely...oh! Just seven galleons! Right on!"

Neville chuckled at her overjoyed attitude and sudden livelihood that had seemed to blossom out of her. She jerked the sheer accessory from its place on the hook and wrapped it around her shoulders. She then sashayed over to the nearest mirror and gave a graceful swirl in front of it.

"How do ya like it, Neville? Does it suit me well enough?" she inquired as he took a step next to her.

"It does indeed, Toni. You look...marvelous, in fact."

She smiled valiantly at both his compliment and at her own reflection, something she rarely did those days. "Thank you, lovely."

He nodded before taking off to the next aisle over to achieve a rather interesting looking antique wristwatch that was supposedly charmed with years of good luck. And that was something Mr. Longbottom had always felt he needed more of, as well of the often troubled redheaded witch.

* * *

_Reminisce: Late Spring of 1996 - Toni's Fidelity_

She was hardly able to pack up her belongings back in the dormitory.

With Sirius' death having been just hours prior, she had been vomiting on and off as well as going into hysterical fits that spotted her vision with black dots and made her legs give out momentarily. She had been completely traumatized.

The mates had tried to console her in the hours past, but she chose to shut them out entirely to collect herself in solitude, which was, in reality, having the opposite effect. She felt as if she were losing her mind, alone in her dorm for all this time. Her lone position was only causing her more harm.

After spending an unknown amount of time locked away, she chose to storm out with not a scrap of her possessions in hand, but rather, left be inside the dorm. Hermione and Ginny had been almost directly outside the door when she had bolted out, fuming to the high heavens.

"Antonia, wait-" Hermione called.

"Fuck the luggage! Just—just leave it all in there! I don't want it!"

The school year had ended and students all over the school were packing away, preparing to leave for the summer. Antonia was far too stunned to really go through with anything at that time, including packing up her belongings.

Her next move was to get outdoors to a place where she could really be alone for a while. She didn't care if that time would only be comprised of immense sobbing and occasional upchucking from wound up, wild nerves going at war inside of her; she just needed to close her eyes and see him again, as best as she could, alive and healthy.

She was one small turn from being basked in a warm ray of sunlight before she was hit from her right side by something extraordinarily brusque and powerful. She was thrown down to her side to crash down on her hips, causing searing physical pain to accompany her tortured mentality.

She hadn't realized what had just happened at first, and almost assumed that she merely tripped and fell over her own weak and clumsy feet, until she felt someone claw at her right arm from a ways above her. In an instant she was met with a thunderous strike across her cheek, knocking her head to the side, nearly straight off her neck.

A piercing scream escaped her lips from the blow; her cheek throbbed like never before. She had barely gotten the chance to even perceive what the hell was going on before she heard perhaps the darkest and most deadly remark ever addressed to her in her life.

"FUCKING FILTHY CUNT!" a strained voice above her boomed, that of Draco Malfoy. A kick of purely saturated venom hit her left thigh before another admonishment of "My father's going to prison because of your fucking sincerity!"

The next thing she endured was his grip going for a large lock of her hair and yanking with the strength of a chronically infuriated troll.

"I am going to fucking murder you, Potter!" He backhanded her just as he did before. "Once I'm through with you, you won't have any feeling left!" He repeated his action, causing her to screech out.

"SOMEONE HELP ME!" she wailed as the students who'd gathered around the two had been too dumbfounded to get the attention of a prof.

"You're going to be _soo_ fucking numb that you'll BEG for death!" He shoved his foot against her ribcage, resulting in an eruption of tremendous ache. At that moment the miserably placed witch had never cried so hard in her life. This was hell at its finest.

She meekly peered up at him from her lain position on the cool ground and thought arduously of a way to try and reason with him before he did accomplish just as he'd promised. She had never seen him so disgruntled in both mood and appearance. His eyes were bloodshot and he had bags underneath his lower lids. His black dress shirt was only buttoned up halfway, and unevenly at that, with some of the buttons unaligned with where they were supposed to be attached. His hair was uncombed and as unkempt as it could be. His glare paralyzed the victimized girl in all the wrong places, concluding in a loss of sensation in her legs, arms, hands, and just about everywhere else. If his intentions were to drag her off someplace and do something unimaginable to her, then he could most certainly go for it, for now would have made for a prime time to do as such.

He stopped beating her once her welled up eyes met his own. He continued to pant heavily and keep his expression contorted with revolt. It took everything Antonia had to keep from blaspheming his waste of a father, even praising his arrest and sentencing to come, but she had to hold it down, for her own sake. As much as she could have literally agreed to kiss death in order to again see her godfather, she could not let her demise fall into the control of this dipshit. That would be dishonoring enough to shame the late godfather himself. She knew Sirius wouldn't want that for her either. He wanted her to live.

With an afraid albeit faultless stare and the intense all around shakes, she mumbled, "Please."

That was all it took. Some form of rare, twisted empathy emerged from within him, for he so kindly spat on her cheek then stomped off with a final, simple insult of calling her a bitch. She should have sighed in relief, but did not, and could not. A large crowd of students from all years and House's were gathered around her, all gawking down at her as if she were some astounding attraction of a freak show or something to the likes of that. Frankly, it was getting the best of her.

She found no strength to bring herself to her feet now, for she was far too sore in the heart and limbs. She sobbed to herself on the cold stone floor for what could have been just over a minute before a fourth year Hufflepuff boy held out his hand for her.

With frail reluctance, she took his hand and did what she possibly could to bring herself to her feet, he lifting her up more than she could using her wobbly legs. She hurried outside straight away, prepared to grieve more than she had originally thought feasible.

There she would lay out in the meadow beyond Hagrid's hut in the melancholiest of bearings. She would writhe and fall apart and cry so much that she could swear she felt her tear ducts throb from exhaustion. She would continue to grieve out here all by herself for the next hour and fifteen minutes until the mates found her. Neville would have to carry her in his arms back up to the castle while she limply laid in his hold, speechless, bewildered and profoundly upset.

She would only remain in the infirmary for a brief moment, then take off once Madam Pomfrey was off fetching an alleviating brew from her medicine cabinet. She hadn't reported her assault to the headmaster on her way out, and she hadn't even gathered her luggage. She willingly left it all behind in spite of being far too depressed and insouciant to bother hauling her shit back to the Dursley hellhold where she would unhingedly mourn up in her bedroom for the Lord knew how long.

* * *

Neville was a sweet guy, he really was. She did admire his physical complexion as well. Yes, he was a charming fellow inside and out. Yet, Antonia couldn't find it within herself to muster up feelings of attraction back his way. She had never felt romantically towards the other Gryffindor, and assumed that she never would.

Like Ron, he to her played out as more of a platonic friend, or a mutual pal. He took on all the traits to qualify for Antonia's mental list of preferences for a friend, a few being his loyalty, given respect, low key bravery, amiability and his tendency to treat others kindly above all else. And he, like Ron, did not emit that lovey-dovey, down-low tingle that the girl had so much pined for in a man.

As said before, she was drawn to men who had some years on her, and while the crew in her age group knew how to make her chest ache with hearty laughter and stretch her lips out to the most gallant of grins, she still fell head over heels for a certain man with a wretched condition of lycanthropy.

This little personal regulation of hers did bother her, for her long-suffered crush over the man was utterly fruitless considering his relationship with Tonks. Not that Toni disliked the young woman in any way, shape or form. In fact, she found the gal to be quite nice, cool and outstanding in many aspects, but she had to confess that it did wring at her heart just a tad.

She at least didn't fret over this around the clock. She had too much else to worry about with the inevitable and upcoming war and all. First and foremost, she still had to determine the second-to top enemy's plans that took place in the Room of Requirement, and now that Antonia was aware of just how to get into the room thanks to her bookly friend, she had her hopes high that progress would soon be made.

…

On the night of November fifth, she caught him ascending the stairway amongst a hefty pool of students. As much as Antonia craved following him right on his tracks so as to not get too far behind, her wise nature and common sense suggested that she play it safe and retrieve her invisibility cloak before catching up with him. With luck, he would still be in the room by the time she had her cloak and had made it up to the seventh floor. She had no time to waste.

Hastily, she rushed up the stairs towards the Fat Lady, spat the password once there and hopped through before waiting for the portrait to open entirely. She kept her fingers crossed that her roommates wouldn't have much to say to her because she really didn't have the time or patience. All it took was a good, coherent earful from Draco's lips up in that room and she just may obtain the evidence she needed to verify his duties, thereby receiving the justice she deserved.

She thought back to Ron's insinuation on how stalking the arse was a 'bloody waste of time'. She could relate when she thought it through his perspective, but she, on the other hand, had been beaten, sexually harassed, manipulated and bullied in too many other ways to decline a beautiful chance at sweet vengeance on her part. Perhaps tonight would be the night that she could get the dirt on him.

She gave a quick wave to the Patil twins as she entered the dorm, garnered her cloak from her trunk and hurried off without having to deal with so much as a "hello" from either girl, and she was thankful for that.

It may have been quarter to nine on a Tuesday night, but that didn't faze the ambitious girl one bit. If he was out and about, she had all right to do the same, yeah? Well, even if she didn't, she didn't really give a damn nonetheless.

Once on the seventh floor, she draped her cloak over herself and headed for the area where she was before. She mentally recanted the steps that were to be followed in order to 'unlock' the entrance. She stepped in and out of the large threshold three times while envisioning her 'excessive need' to hide a loose strand of her hair, as well as be in the proximity of Draco.

Once she opened her eyes she was only a short distance from the perpetrator. In a minor panic, she backed away and watched him place something inside of the cabinet, though she failed to arrive in time to see what exactly it was.

'_Blast!'_

She huffed silently to herself and decided to warily foot her way closer to him and at least hear his murmurs.

She could hardly decipher his hushed incantation of, "Harmonia Nectere Passus."

His whisper had taken her interest greatly, though she did not know its meaning. The cabinet's door was then reopened. She was almost too afraid to move in any closer than where she was just six feet behind him. Any slight noise made by her would grasp his imminent attention, surely. He would also be very well aware of who his stalker was, considering his accuracy with the last incident with the invisibility cloak on the Express.

At the same time, she had to see what he was trying to get rid of, if he was indeed trying to dispose of anything for that matter. Would the floorboards creak if she were careful enough upon tiptoeing her way further in? Furthermore, was it a risk that would be worth it?

She tilted her head whilst keeping still, making absolutely no sound minus the soft breathing between them both, that luckily went unheard on both parties. She couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at the object, or rather piece of fruit he was holding: a green apple. She stared silently as he fumbled it in his palm to observe the other side, to see that it had a chunk missing out of it, looking as if it were bitten into.

Some tense beats went on before he closed the cabinet up and sped around on his heel, nearly knocking a startled gasp from the invisible girl's lips. Her lucky stars must have been shining bright tonight, for he walked off in the other direction upon exiting the room, suspicious of no one and nothing.

She had uncovered not only how to get into this portal of a room, she also witnessed Draco put an apple away, mutter some fancy dialect then withdraw the said fruit to see that it had been tampered with by someone or something's teeth. While these factors within themselves made for well accomplished goals on her part, she had never been so muddled.

…

'_5 November 1996_

_As thankful as I was to have finally uncovered Draco's secret whereabouts, I was just as disappointed to see that his business has given me no real answers. Truthfully, I would have to get into that mind of his to see what he's really up to, and I'm not exactly excelled in Occlumency, considering the dreadful incident from last January with Severus._

_I suppose this means that I have no choice but to figure out another way I can detect his motives, but how the bloody hell I am to do just that? The prick's shady this year as a shadow cast by his large mate Crabbe outdoors in the blaring sunlight! Ah hell, there's no need to joke around in times like these. What with Voldemort on my bum, eh, that sounded very wrong. And that stupid 'assignment' Albus gave me with getting on Slughorn's 'good side'. At this point, I'm just like 'whatever' with everything. I've had my fill, dammit!_

_I plan to return to The Hog's Head this Friday evening alone, for I don't want or need my clique knowing that I've become a practical alcoholic as of the last, oh god, five months? I don't like to think back to the day he died, I can't, really. It always hurts too much._

_So what to do now? Sod off and live-out the rest of my days binging on red wine and daiquiris while using this torn little notebook as a therapist?_

_Lord, I need someone to help me get away from myself.._

_~Antonia' _


	12. Misery's Witch

_Mature themes ahead. _

* * *

**Chapter Twelve  
_Misery's Witch_**

"Ooh, and what are you going to do about it?"

She was subsequently treated to a hauling to the nearby bed from over his shoulder. With more force than what was comfortable, she was slammed down onto the stiff twin mattress with a high pitched creak to follow.

"Ah, again with the forced sex, I see. Nothing obnoxiously banal about that, dear!"

Ignoring her with clenched teeth and veins that pulsated viciously due to pent-up vexation, he garnered all the roping he'd need. This run was going to be just a smidgen different than usual. Once he had what he thought was doable, he roughly shoved the cupboard shut and turned to face the scoffing lain girl with a look of disturbingly twisted pride splayed on his face.

"Oh, don't you worry, pet. I shall not fail to bore you in any way tonight."

Her gaze fell on the bundle of sturdy not-too-thick roping in his hands. Her mood altered and she snapped out of her daunting jeer. He had a strict punishment for her in line again; _that _had remained the same. What had frightened her now were his proposed accessories. She tensed up more upon seeing him retrieve a large, thick and worn-out paddle smothered in splinters.

Gulping, she stood and went as pale as Sir Nicholas' spirit as she bolted for the door. It didn't didn't long for her to be slapped with an impedimenta spell, promptly tripping her. It was his turn to cackle. He stalked over to her swiftly and took hold of her before she could make an escape.

"I won't let you win! I'll fight you the whole time!"

"That's what the ropes are for, love."

Once her back met the top of the mattress for the second time, an incantation of "Incarcerous" was used to tie her up in a jiffy. Her hands were bound together in a cuffed fashion and her legs were confined to either side of the bedposts on the end, separated.

She laid flat on her stomach to struggle fruitlessly while he cut her panties off using his pocketknife. Her captor sat down to her left side, paddle threateningly gripped for her to witness.

"Maybe now you'll learn to behave yourself, sweetheart," he sneered.

Before she could make a peep in response her bottom was met with the very hunk of wood that she'd been taunted with just moments before. She screamed out as he went on to relentlessly whop her pale arse a flushed beetroot tinge. Her whimpers died down little over the course of what could have been just three minutes, but it felt much longer to the victimized girl.

"Please! Please! I'll do whatever you want!" she begged, making her worst fear come alive. She had vowed to never give in, and she now not only had, but rather pathetically at that. Panting, he halted, resting the piked weapon on her right cheek.

"Good girl," he mocked, gasping lightly in exhaustion.

She winced and tightly closed her eyes as she heard the familiar unzipping of his pants along with the brisk tugging down of his underwear. She shook violently as he positioned himself between her legs, resting each hand of his on her bare hips, though leaving her where she was. She yelped as he yanked her upwards onto her knees, still keeping her back faced to him while doing so. Nausea damn nearly overcame her as she heard him spit into his palm, then likely proceed to lubricate himself up with it for what he was about to do.

"...Just be quick," she whispered.

Numbness and pure apprehension possessed her as he plunged himself into her.

"At least now my father's not the _only one _taking it up the-"

"GOOD LORD!"

Antonia had shot up in her bed so forcefully that she struggled to stop herself from slipping over the bed. She was covered in cold sweat and her cheeks were soaked with tears. She quivered uncontrollably as her eyes were stung with the brightness of three bedside lamps being flicked on.

"Oh, dear, Antonia," Hermione said in a sympathy-laced tone as she sat up her bed.

One of the Patil twins sighed, "This again?"

Lavender shut down her lamp and turned to her side complaining, "What is it with that girl and nightmares?"

"Sorry! Sorry, um, overwhelmed is all," Antonia awkwardly excused before getting up and heading for the doorway.

"Where are you going? It's only 2 a.m.," Hermione put followed by a yawn.

Opening the door and stepping out halfway, she answered, "Someplace where I can't disturb you all."

She closed the door before she had the chance to hear her friend's input likely telling her that she was being ridiculous, while she most certainly was not. It was the middle of November and she had already woken up her roommates with her hollerings in the middle of the night three times in just three and a half weeks.

In fear that she'd resume her lucid nightmare, she sat upright on the couch in the common room while sipping what she had left of her cognac. She was thankful that it was the weekend, and even if it was not, she doubted that she would be attending classes the next day anyways.

Earlier that night she had paid a visit to her new preferable pub, The Hog's Head, just as she did every Friday night, and again conversed intimately with the elderly barman who shared genes with her favorite headmaster. Unlike her last few visits, he was reluctant to serve her more than a couple servings of champagne, declaring that she was 'too young' to be drinking so heftily. She strongly opposed his suggestion, however.

"I am a paying customer, Ab! I believe it is your duty to serve me as I so request!"

"'Ey, keep in mind that yer technically underage, madam." He leant in and grumbled "So, I am thereby not technically supposed to be serving you."

With a cocked brow and a sharp gaze, she challenged, "Well, then why do you?"

She had caught him off guard there, but only for a moment. "Because you're a paying customer…"

She gleamingly grinned to herself. She felt as if she had won a debate. "You see, we just went in a loop of sorts...with my persuasion, you ultimately agreed w-with me! Hehe," she hiccuped.

"Ah, don't get all giddy now...An' personally, you seem, to me at least, already too damn wasted."

"Hey, I don't take too kindly to critics, Ab. I think I'll judge _myself_, thank you very much."

"Ooh, a sassy one, she is!"

The two looked over at a twenty-something fellow seated nearby. He was smiling crookedly and holding up his half full mug filled with what Antonia could've guessed to be brandy.

"Ah, put the mug down, Sagis, this young lady has nothin' to 'cheer' about. Not when she be drinking as much as she is," Aberforth grumbled with a cough at the end.

"Hush it, Mister Barman. I can give a cheer if I wanna," Antonia admonished.

"Yeah, you tell 'im, doll," said the customer next to her. She shakily tapped her mug to his and took a hearty swig while the bartender rolled his eyes and moved down the counter to attend to more _favorable _customers.

"What's your name, 'oney?" the man with a cockney English accent chimed, his voice reminding Antonia of Fred and George's.

"Antonia," she answered with minor diffidence. While this man was not what most girls her age would call even remotely attractive, she had a thing for men who carried a few flaws. She rather was awestruck by his noticeably crooked teeth and facial scruff. The dark circles under his eyes as well as the small cut on his cheek only accentuated his appeal according to the slightly inebriated girl.

"Feel free to call me Toni. Most of my friends do," she added sweetly, putting on a big smile for him for every word.

"Eh, right then, me name's Sagis Forenor." He held out his hand that looked to be dusted in dirt. "Here on holiday from Wales."

"Nice to meet you," she cooed while taking his hand without even a lick of hesitance. She was eager to make new friends, even if they were men in their mid to late twenties. As mentioned before, she never judged a man for his age.

He had long, slightly shaggy brunet hair that fell in loose strands underneath his hat. His hair and blue eyes reminded her of Sirius, and she couldn't decided whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Over the last five or so months anything that had made her think of her late godfather nearly always made her tear ducts go berserk, but tonight, with this bloke, such didn't occur.

"Don' ye listen to that old man, dearie. Too damn wise to be scoldin' a young gal such as yourself who just be wandrin' in here for a few drinks...No harm is bein' done, eh?"

She grinned. "You've got that right. The man should just be thankful that I'm paying him what I am."

This got the man laughing, appeasing Antonia very much so. She was beginning to feel unusually comfortable with this guy, and she wasn't entirely certain why she was, but she didn't pay much heed to it either. This was her cup of tea, or maybe butterbeer in her case.

"You residin' 'ere in town?" he asked.

"Um, no. Actually I'm from the boarding school about four miles out from here, Hogwarts. Have you heard of it?"

He took a long, quenchable gulp from his mug and dropped it back down onto the counter rather jaggedly. "Oh, yeah, yeah. I din't go there myself, however...Say, just how old are you?"

Just when she thought that age was making no difference to simplicity. "Sixteen."

"...Oh. Still a minor then, eh?"

This threw her off. "Honestly, _Sagis_," she bit out his name almost as if it were Malfoy's. "I personally do not think of myself as a child, for your information." She gingerly sipped her wine, doing what she could to her strength to keep calm.

"I am, _ahem_, very much a woman."

"Oh, and I believe it," he defended, not with sarcasm or mockery but honesty. "You do seem mature to me, by nature and...by your looks," he admitted with a wink.

She blushed. "Well, um, thank you...mister."

"For what? Surely you get complimented frequently, yeah?"

Her cheeks began to heat up as this older fellow flirted with her. At the same time, she had to stop herself from speaking on any further with this man, for she felt as if she were being discourteous to Neville. Not that she personally had considered him to be a 'boyfriend' of hers quite yet, if ever.

She turned away and dug around in her purse for her pay. She dropped two galleons and eight sickles on the counter and slipped off of her stool.

"It was nice meeting you, Sagis. Have a wonderful night."

"Oh? You bashful all of the sudden? What's the hurry?"

Antonia was at loss for words. She may have had herself a bit much to drink yet again but she still didn't want to spend a night with this greasy traveler.

"...Pardon?"

Little did she expect him to wrap his left arm around her waist. Goosebumps elongated her arms, and she could have sworn they'd hit her legs as well.

"Le' me take you out on the town for a while. Why, we could go dancing, or get some dessert at Honeydukes, or-"

"I appreciate your offering, but I really must be on my way."

"How often you come here?"

'_Dammit!'_

"Um...I'll be seeing you around." She heeled off in the other direction, hearing him holler "You best assume you'll be!" once she reached the front entrance of the Inn.

* * *

"Nice hat!"

"Coward…"

"What a prat!"

"LOOOSER!"

"Woosy!"

Antonia could say that she literally felt a thousand nerves pop in her head at the parade of insults being tossed at Ron as he entered the Great Hall all geared up for the start of the Quidditch season. She let go of her spoonful of cereal mid-air and stood abruptly as it splashed down into the bowl below, concluding in a bit of a milky mess on the table.

"The morons!" she sighed angrily, one foot now over the seat. Hermione and Ginny gave her a worried look.

"I'll be back shortly, girls. Someone needs to put those goddamn horrid Slytherin's in their place," Antonia confirmed.

Before she could storm off, Hermione reasoned, "Just drop it. There is no need to start a riot over a bunch of spineless idiots."

"Hermione, they're throwing _unrestricted _catcalls at him! They can't just get away with that!"

"Get away with what?"

Ron took his seat before a plate of toast triangles with a large cooked egg. He did not look pleased. He was paler than usual and he wore a rare-to-see-on-him frown.

"You look spanking!" Antonia gleefully put, slowly retaking her seat, letting the table past the one in front of her off with a quick flip of the middle finger, that likely no one saw anyways.

"Yeah, yeah…" he grumbled while he picked away at his breakfast.

"Hello everyone."

The three glanced over at the newly arrived Ravenclaw girl donning her oddest attire yet: a large, plush lion's…

'_Thingamajig headgear?' _Antonia mused with a quirked eyebrow that matched her friends.

She was brought out of her mental inquiry with Luna's next murmur of "You look dreadful, Ron." She then directed her dreamy gaze onto Antonia who was seated across from her. "Is that why you put something in his cup?"

Ron's former mien of disappointment quickly morphed into one of shock and accusation.

"Is it a tonic?" she piped in.

All eyes were drawn onto her. She smirked playfully and jokingly fumbled around with the small vial that she had always kept in her pants pocket whenever she wore pants over a dress or skirt. Hermione gasped sharply while matter-of-factually blurting, "Liquid luck!"

With a new expression of enthusiasm, Ron lifted his goblet and took what Antonia could denote to be his most covetous sip yet that she'd seen. When he replaced the goblet, his first smile of the day had sprouted.

"You could get expelled!" Hermione hushedly warned.

Giggling, Antonia innocently replied, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Ron then quickly got to his feet and skipped off chanting, "I've got a game to win!"

…

Antonia was not capable of wiping that smirk from her lips all day long at not what she had done, but hadn't. She had done well in toying with the good old fashioned placebo effect with her mate, she had. His naturally implemented confidence had triggered his inner capabilities to lead the Gryffs to the win. She thought it rather silly that Hermione speculated her illicit usage of the vial in Ron's pumpkin juice. Why would she waste something so precious on Ronald's ego? No, she needed to save that special concoction for a more crucial time.

The after-party was going well enough for Antonia at least. She was just satisfied that the punch bowl was brimmed with firewhiskey. The celebration had been nothing new for her; nothing really enticing. Yeah, yeah, the Gryffindor's had won _another _game. While she did care for the Gryffindor status, including House Points and the whole 'sticking together like a family' addition that the House carried along with it, she personally never really had the team spirit that the majority of the other students had. She reasoned that she was just never all that into sports of any sort. From a young age, she had taken no interest whatsoever in the yearly Olympics or football games that had been broadcast on the television in the living room. A game was a game. What more was there to it? It wouldn't matter who took the trophy or the lead.

She sipped her goblet. She had much, much larger issues to worry about at the time than whether or not the Great Hall would have the usual bright red and golden banners hanging up on the ceiling. She reckoned that blue, yellow or green would make for a refreshing touch anyhow.

'_Well, maybe not green...'_

"YEAH GRYFFINDOR'S!" hollered a third year by the fireplace, rousing much applause in turn.

'_Whoopdeedoo…'_

She felt a tap on her shoulder. She spun around to face a displeased Hermione.

"You shouldn't have done that, Antonia," she chastised, swatting her upper arm. A tad fed up, Toni scrambled around in her pocket for her full vial of felix felicis that she always kept next to her lighter. She brought it into her sternly mate's view and smirked as she watched her expression transform. Her eyes widened in bewildered acknowledgement.

"You didn't use it…"

"And what implied that I ever did, ducky?" Antonia laughingly challenged.

By now the Gryffindor champion was being praised by the entire House. The entire room was wild with festivity, and the hooting only intensified with the kiss shared by the ginger champion and his girlfriend, Lavender Brown.

Antonia began to clap along with all the others, until she heard an infuriated huff from behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Hermione making a quick exit. It then occurred to her that Hermione had feelings for Ron, and had since early in their third year. Seeing this schoolgirl attack her love interest with her lips must have hurt terribly, and Antonia could strongly relate. It was like seeing that slut, Tonks, with Remus. It made her feel...sick.

She followed after her into the dark hallway outside of the common room and found her sitting on the first cemented step of the staircase, sniffling with a pool of tiny canaries fluttering over her. It was time to play the counselor for the evening and accompany her troubled friend from below. It would be nice getting to hear someone else vent other than herself too.

"Don't fret over that bimbo, 'Mione," Antonia advised while kneeling down.

"Do you know how it feels, Antonia? You won't even tell me who is of your interest."

"I understand, Hermione. Believe me."

The woeful girl beside her sniffled again while combing her fingers through her thick wavy hair that Antonia had always been quite fond of. She rested her right hand on her back and consoled her best as she could.

"Do you think...do you think they've had intercourse yet?" Hermione mumbled shakily.

Antonia was almost at loss for an answer. "I don't think so...can't be too sure."

"Ugh...I loathe that temptress whore!" she muttered with her head pressed against her bent knees.

"Don't take this to heart. There are plenty of other fish in the sea."

"I know, I know, it's just…" She turned her head and met her teary eyes with the the redhead. "I've felt for him for so long...it stings seeing him with another...seeing them snog like that...I mean, it wouldn't be as bad if she weren't such a ditsy, two-faced, vacuous-"

High pitched giggling echoed from down the corridor. A nauseating twinge settled within both girls as the said couple skipped their way into the seated girls' view, hands entwined with one another and the most intrepid of smiles adorning their faces. Hermione rose suddenly, evidently cross.

Just as Ron's girlfriend trotted off, Hermione aimed her wand his way and clearly stated, "Oppugno" to direct the canaries to chase after him in one swift and sloppy flock. He sprinted as far as he could before the enchanted birds all crashed into the wall and burst into spurts of dust.

Insulted, just as Hermione wanted him to be, he ran off. Hermione knelt back down and let her tears soak Antonia's shoulder. She did relish the role swap tonight. Being the victim of misery was never delightful.

* * *

She returned to the Hog's Head again that night. The place itself had grown to be her own little sanctuary over the last three weeks since first going there. While at first the eeriness, slightly musky odor and gloomy atmosphere of the pub gave her the shudders, she now rather took a liking to it all. She could even overlook the often disturbing customer variation, though she wished to keep out of Sagis' way tonight, for he had given off some...irksome vibes.

"Ye sure do come 'ere often, miss," declared Aberforth.

"You haven't seen Mr. Forenor at all yet, have you?" she asserted timidly.

He shook his head, sending a wave of ease through her system. She ordered her recent usual of cava, her favorite sparkling wine, then lost herself in her thoughts as she pondered on about what she had said to Hermione earlier that evening.

Truth be told, she didn't want her best female friend to know that she had the hots for Lupin, a man who was both formerly their scholar, and a whopping twenty years their senior. She personally wasn't ashamed of her fantasizing of passionate smooching with him on a warm beach under a summer's sunset, but she knew that Hermione would not understand, and being the 'wise' young lady she was, would probably scold her otherwise, seeing her crush on such an older man as 'unhealthy' or 'peculiar'. Hence, she was better off not knowing.

'_Well, maybe I'll let her know when we're a bit older,'_

"Here ye go."

"Thank you, Ab."

She took the most careful sip she had taken in a while, really wanting this drink to last her. It wasn't so much that she was getting short on money, but she, tonight, wanted to avoid getting full-on hammered. The hangovers were becoming quite unbearable anyway. She was limiting herself to two mugs tonight before take-off.

Once back at the castle just shy of eleven, she headed not for her dorm but to the Astronomy Tower. For some reason or another, she was drawn into that direction for reasons going beyond her lack of fatigue. She took slow, careful and minorly drunken steps up the spiral stairs, almost feeling dizzy by the time she was on the top step.

She took one step forward and nearly shrieked at who she saw leant over the ledge off in the distance. Staring out, still as death and surrounded by cascading snowflakes was the blond schoolyard bully.

'_Typical!'_

No matter; he wasn't going to scare her away. She could go unseen by his conceited ogle, and quite easily so at that. She ducked over to the other side of the stairway and knelt down. She peered over the metal rail to see if she had caught his attention, then sighed when she saw that he was still in his same position, bent over and arms resting on the fencing.

Antonia was addled by his being there, alone and...even innocent looking. She could guess that he was just up here, very much willing to be without the company of others, to perhaps sort something out or just...she didn't know, think.

'_Just what the hell is on that arrogant mind of his?'_

She didn't dare go and ask. She was in no mood to have her mouth tainted by that whiskey-drenched tongue of his, nor was she up for the feel of his long and cold fingers dragging against her lower back or his tenacious grip on her wrists while he assaulted her with the filthiest of jibes. She crossed her legs from where she sat and pulled out her small paperback copy of Stephen King's _Pet Sematary _out of her book bag that she had brought along with her. The nearly bitter air surrounding her forced her to wrap her newly purchased shawl around her in an attempt to warm up.

This may have been the girl's most favored read of King's yet, but that didn't mean chapter eight could distract her from her own exhaustively incessant thoughts. Her lone state gave her this odd sense of freedom. At this hour, she was not technically allowed to be up here, out of her House, even if it was just to read a book. At this moment, she felt not rebellious, but just...liberated. Freedom had been such a privilege her whole life, and now it felt as if she were gaining it from, or on, her own accord.

* * *

_Reminisce: Early 1985 - Bert_

In her youth, at around age four, she was first given her own private little bedroom, or rather, _closet_—underneath the stairs. Thinking back on it, she recalled wearing her tiny silk nightie and socks that were far too large for her own small feet. She had been woken up from an evening nap on her downstairs cot by Uncle Vernon. He had been very adamant with waking her from her innocent slumber.

"Up now, you lousy little burden," he growled, shaking her awake at the same time with his monstrous, meaty clutch. She was then led to the petite, triangular door with a square vent with blinds towards the top of it that could be opened or closed by the yank of a thin rope-like material. She watched with sleepy eyes as he unlatched the door's lock and tore the door open with one swift jerk. He stepped inside of the closet-sized space only to pull the light bulb's attached cord to provide light, before giving the little girl leeway.

"You are to sleep in here from here on out, understood?" he grumbled her way while glaring down at the tot. She nodded obediently and took one small step inside before the door was harshly slammed shut and then latched up, trapping her inside, _at least _for the rest of the night. She climbed onto her slender, stiff mattress than was so thoughtfully provided and she tried to make herself comfortable underneath the torn, thin sheets.

She laid there on her back for quite some time, the light still on and blaring the whole of the space, as well as spotting Antonia's vision with moving, colorful splotches as she stared directly into the light here and there. She took the time to study her new personal residence, only really having to memorize the single large set of shelves that sat directly behind her bed and her view of various electrical cords and fuse boxes that hung loosely from the wall aside her. She had little room to take any more than three careful steps before running straight into the slanted opposite wall once she stood from her bed.

She trembled violently once her gaze landed on a black house spider than sat still in its web from no more than a few feet above her. She considered hollering out for her uncle to come back to get it, but wisely chose against it for fear that it would only gravely disturb him. It was such a petty thing, really. There it remained still and practically harmless in its little space, minding its own business.

Antonia placed her limp and savagely unfluffed pillow on the other side of the mattress, figuring that if the creepy critter were to fall or drop down from its web, it'd be better for it to land by her feet rather than her face.

She reached out to kill her light after another set of drowsy minutes ticked on. She laid underneath the sheets tired, though struggling to drift off due to the noise from a program her uncle was watching from the nearby living room. She had just barely managed to catch some sleep by the time she heard and felt thunderous footfalls march up the stairs one by one, showering her in a thick cloud of dust with each slow step taken.

Each and every night at approximately 8:30 she was due back in her compact world after brushing her teeth and bathing. She now had even less room to move freely since her box full of clothing was now occupying the majority of the open floor aside the end of her mattress. She could thank her not-so-lucky stars for the amount of room she had to stand up from her poor excuse of a bed and take another step directly out of the room.

Though she would enjoy the almost limitless amount of space she had to roam around once out of her dingy and suffocating closet, she would dislike the consequences that followed it. She was to keep out of the living room, allowed no television or even board games at the coffee table. She was forbidden to go upstairs and only allowed to use the bathroom located just down the hall from her cupboard. She was to stay out of the kitchen except for mealtimes.

Oh, and when mealtimes did occur, she would never get enough to completely satisfy her rumblings. And as for dessert, she could _forget _it.

Her neglect given from the guardians' had moulded her into a highly civilized and well-behaved child, though only from an outward standpoint. Internally, she was very upset and frustrated beyond what her youthful mind could truly comprehend. Why, she wanted to join her cousin Dudders on the couch every Saturday morning to an episode or two of Sesame Street, and she longed for the taste of ice cream or, Lord, even vanilla pudding.

She wanted to go to the zoo and to the carnivals just as they all did. Often when the three would take off somewhere, Antonia would be dropped off at Arabella Figg's house located just around Privet Drive. There she would be treated to picture after picture of the old woman's former cats and given overcooked biscuits and unsweetened tea. Her home always smelt strongly of both peppermint and dry cleaning solution, always causing the little girl to leave with a stuffy nose and a headache.

Young Antonia was frequently locked away in her cupboard under the stairs while Uncle Vernon was home, for he, frankly, just didn't want anything to do with the little brat. He threw quite a fit upon her arrival on the night of October 31st just over three years earlier, and Petunia had much trouble convincing him to keep her in their home, though she personally didn't want much to do with her either, and was merely going by as she was told in the letter she'd received informing her of her sister's sudden death. Aside from details of her younger sibling's murder, the letter had suggested that the then fifteen month old infant had nowhere else to go, minus the technicality of a shoddy and run-down orphanage or overcrowded foster care center.

While the Dursleys' had taken her into their care, harsh and even cruel regulations followed. She was deprived all the rights that her cousin of the same age had, including telly time, yummy desserts and even toys, except for a few old Barbie dolls of Lily's that Petunia had found in their attic along with some of her old dresses and pajamas.

While little Toni had what most kids would see as a very boring lifestyle, the child herself rather found ways to entertain herself in more innovative ways. Sometimes she could make her dollies seem animated and very much alive when her mental intentions of them dancing or simply walk came true. Other times she had somehow managed to levitate her spoon from her seat in her highchair at the dining table when her aunt wasn't looking, though she believed her cousin had seen her doing it when she'd seen his normally small eyes enlarge to the size of sand dollars upon seeing the plastic red spoon float above the table, then suddenly plummet back down just before Petunia had turned around to give her son a second helping of banana cream pie.

At such a youthful age, Antonia could only overlook such odd and unusual capabilities, and just be thankful that she could do such fun things with a simple thought or intention. She could only look at her unique talents as her only source of entertainment, after all.

Aside from that, she had one friend at that time, and that was the black house spider that lived in her space full-time. The arachnid would hardly move for the duration of four whole months, and it didn't seem to get any larger in size in that time as well, only amounting to the proportion of an adult's thumbnail. Once the tot had grown used to seeing her little pal every day, always having moved no more than a fraction of an inch, then the less menacing the critter had appeared.

After a while, Antonia had decided to call him Bert. She would spend much of her time speaking to him whilst tucked away underneath her sheets before passing out. She would tell him all about her fairly uneventful days cooped up in the downstairs area of the household. She would tell him of how she wondered what pumpkin pie and root beer tasted like. She hoped that he was keeping his microscopic ears open to let her mumbling sink in, for she had no one else to whine to, let alone speak to in general.

While she greatly enjoyed having Bert as a pet, so to speak, she could never bring herself to hold or even touch him with the rim of her index finger. Like most of the general population, she still held a slight fear for the eight legged creature. His long and slim legs, oval body and tiny yet visible pincers would still unnerve the child to some extent, even if small.

She did come to appreciate his humble presence, though she still yearned for a larger pet with perhaps more fur. Lately, she had been overhearing Dudley beg for a puppy, and while her aunt seemed to give in to his pleas, her uncle would put his foot down and enforce otherwise, for his profuse dread that it would ruin their carpeting with "Bile and piss."

The youngster would giggle to herself whenever her uncle was flustered with her cousin, for he almost never was. In fact, he looked down at his own flesh and blood as if he were a blessed child, as would the aunt, but in Antonia's eyes, he was nothing close to that sort of definition. He was obnoxious, ill-mannered, greedy, uncaring for the sake of others and frighteningly conceited. He would demand oodles upon oodles of games, treats and toys day in and day out, while the girl got close to nothing, even when she didn't throw a fit like her 'precious' cousin would.

It was aggravating, but there was nothing such an innocent, 3'2, mostly mute four year old girl could do to request her care be enhanced. She was accustomed to her daily environment, light meals and lack of toys. Often, she wished to be elsewhere, if not with her late parents then somewhere where she would at least be cared for substantially. There were times when she would even settle for the guardianship of Mrs. Figg, despite the intense household odors and stale pastries she would have to succumb to.

At least Bert would be there for her no matter what, for he himself was practically confined in this stuffy and inequitable barricade directly below the staircase, but at least he could crawl out whenever he wanted to, and Antonia was thankful that he never chose to, for it seemed as if the two had formed a bond of sorts.

She was delighted to have the opportunity to escape the prison of her room under the circumstances that she take up some household responsibilities. Yes, the child wasn't even five years of age yet and she had to do chores that were fit for a girl twice her age. She would have to sweep the rooms with no carpeting and vacuum the ones that did. She would have to assist her aunt with the dishes, never doing that by herself for her aunt's fear that she would either cut herself while scrubbing a dirty knife or she would fail to wash a dish thoroughly enough, thereby making an adult's presence and observation very necessary.

One day in early spring while standing on her tippy toes on a stool next to her aunt to wash the dishes, she decided to break the chilling silence by telling her about her new little roommate. Her aunt didn't seem to pay much attention and rather tuned in to the weatherman's forecasts over the radio perched on the opposite counter aside the microwave.

If there was one person in the household who Antonia had almost wanted to have a friendly relationship with, it was probably her Aunt Petunia. She had shown the least animosity towards the child over the last few years of her guardianship over the girl, and that to Toni, proved her worthy as...a motherly figure?

Not quite, however, for she still needed to improve heavily on showing her sister's daughter some meaningful affection, just as her real mother did. The tot would often ponder why her aunt and uncle had shown no aspect of love or even care for her sake. What had she done wrong?

"You're my only friend, Bert," she mumbled softly to her little pet once back inside of her space for the evening.

Not feeling the slightest bit drowsy, she crossed her legs and sat up on her made bed once changed into her oversized old T shirt she used as a nightie. She kept her eyes glued to the arachnid that remained still on its web, while also taking notice of the bundle nearby him that was the size of a speck. After having recently seen the cartoon, Charlotte's Web, Antonia could infer that the silver bundle must have been Bert's dinner.

"I just had my dinner, Bert. You are hungry, I bet?" she stated, resting her head in her left palm.

She continued to speak to her tiny friend about various things as the minutes ticked on. Once settled in, she raised her tone from her previous hushed whispers to a more normal volume, not that it would really make a difference for her listener, but at least she thought it would.

Her ramblings could be heard from outside the cupboard, since she had evidently forgotten to close her door all the way. Her voice partially carried out into the kitchen where her aunt and uncle were chatting and having drinks at the dining table.

Vernon feverishly ravelled his newspaper in a weak attempt to try and block his niece's inscrutable mutterings out, while the aunt tapped her manicured nails rhythmically on the table. After a few more minutes of the girl's dainty echoes having annoyed the uncle to a ridiculously great extent, he groaned, "Who the bloody hell is she talking to?"

While flipping through her newest catalogue on making the ideal pot roast, Petunia mumbled "She told me that she made a new 'friend', so to speak. She calls a spider in her room 'Bert'."

He cocked an eyebrow and grumbled, "Is that so, Petunia? And how long has this pest been _cobbing _up my home?"

Nonchalantly turning the page, she said, "I don't know, a few months, I guess."

"Hell," he affirmed hotly while rolling up his paper into the form of a thick scroll. "Last thing we need is a bloody insect laying eggs about the home and leaving _drapery _in all the corners!" He stood up from his seat with a grunt and a creak of the chair to follow.

While heading out of the kitchen, he added, "Getting kind of sick of the girl's chit chat as well."

"Vernon," she sighed, "just leave the girl be for Christ's sake. It's just a spider."

He already had her door shoved wide open. She stopped talking abruptly and swirled around to face her burgundy-faced uncle. Raised his right arm before him while securely gripping the folded newspaper in his hand, he growled, "Where is it?"

Horror stricken, she carefully scooted to place herself in front of her pet and innocently murmured "What?"

Now very annoyed, he took a large step in and rammed the girl to the side, immediately spotting the culprit in a curled position.

"This your 'friend', Antonia? A worthless little spider?" he mocked vehemently, making the tot quiver all over in apprehension for his next action.

"P-Please don't hurt him," she whispered under her breath, barely audible enough for the man to hear, not that hearing her plea would have made him reconsider his intentions, anyhow.

He chortled at her pathetic sympathy. His laughing had managed to distract her briefly before he viciously swung his clenched newspaper directly at the cobweb, then doing it again, and then a third time.

"NOOO! NO NO NO! PLEASE STOP! NO! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!" she cried out, _begging _for the first time in her life.

He crumbled up the paper with the minuscule corpse inside while darkly grumbling "Whoops, too late" before stepping out of the cupboard and slamming her door and latching it up, leaving the girl to grieve the night away.

* * *

a/n:

TY for the reviews :)

I'm going to answer some questions in regards to some of your reviews for chapter 11. I'm answering them here over PM so others wondering the same thing can get their answers.

**The Things You Wish You Knew:** Yup, Draco's a jackass all right.

**Guest:** ...Well, I'll try not to give anything away by saying this, but, not exactly. In another author's note I explained how Draco is basically obsessed with Toni, whereas she does not return the feelings. However, let's just say that there will be a relationship of sorts that will be formed in chapters to come...more of a bargain than a friendship/pairing though...but it will still be steamy! ;D


	13. The Fine Line

_A Kind Advisory: ...Mature, this chapter is._

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen  
_The Fine Line_**

"Well, well, well…"

Those three words had barely hit her ears as she sat against the railing half asleep. Her still open book had nearly slipped out of her hold. Her shawl had loosened up from its wrap around her shoulders and fallen to reveal much of her auburn hair in the pale moonlight. She could be identified quite easily by anyone on the other side of the rail, for she had failed to hide herself properly enough from the enemy's view. She lazily reopened her eyes and gasped, having lost the sense of time and where she really was for a few ticks. She thought she heard his voice, but prayed that it was just her own still drunken imagination playing tricks on her.

She realized just how wrong she was when she heard a continued statement of, "Look what we have here."

Alarm raced through her system as well as the instinct to lift herself up from the ground and hightail it. However, she was not able to do such due to her body having become nearly paralyzed in trepidation. She felt even more like a limp puppet once she heard his sauntering footsteps inch closer to her. Once he was a mere couple of feet away, she found it in herself to jolt up and bolt around for the stairs. It didn't take long for a pair of ice-cold hands to grip her bare and slender shoulders and jerk her back with vexing force.

She screamed as her body collided into the taller and firmer one behind her, making her head spin like it had on Halloween night a few weeks earlier. She couldn't believe this was happening again. Those hands found their place around her abdomen and were quick to barricade her in his lock. She stood no chance against him even if she were even the slightest bit sober.

"FUCKING HELL, MAN!" she screeched just underneath his chin.

"That's right, baby. Scream and shout all you like. No one can hear you all the way up here," he taunted while dragging her to the very nearby wall and thrusting her body against it with exertion that spotted her vision.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

She pounded on his chest relentlessly although she herself knew well that her outburst would fend him off little to none. He latched onto each of her wrists and held them above her head effortlessly. Oh, how he did enjoy her almost constant drunkenness. It made his endeavors all the more simple.

"You _must _want this, Antonia," he muttered into her ear. "You _must _want me to fuck you."

"NO!"

"Yes," he growled. "You just do not seem to have it in you to keep your rightful distance from me, as I've noticed very much this year. You've been stalking me, following me everywhere I fucking go since the first of September."

"BACK OFF YOU LOUSY SON OF A BITCH!"

"No, I think _you _need to back off!"

He rammed her down onto the cold ground. He straddled her waist before she had a chance to make an escape, if she were even daft enough to have hope that she could do as such. He went for a fistful of her hair and jerked possessively as he lowered himself so that their lips were just a small ways apart.

Staring into his cold gray eyes brought her back to her last day of fifth year, just hours after Sirius had died. The only difference now was that he was in more of an exuberant mood, whereas then he was utterly outraged.

"Why are you so fascinated with me? Huh? Why is it that whenever I go off about my own bloody business somewhere you are always on my track?"

"I need to confirm my suspicions."

She almost couldn't believe she had confessed that. She mentally cursed at herself for being so regretfully honest with him, and damn did she know what was coming after that little yet dire tidbit.

"...What suspicions?"

She remained silent. He would be getting nothing more from her tonight. She would see to it, or so she presumed. His next gesture damn nearly knocked her secret straight past her lips along with a heap of swears. The back of her head throbbed madly as he tugged the handful he had with enough force to make her wail out in pain.

"WHAT SUSPICIONS, DAMN IT?!"

She sobbed beneath him, mustering all the strength she could to keep from giving in. She could hardly take the challenge. She merely panted lightly while continuing to stare him in the eyes, having just a hint of faith that maybe he'd relent. After knowing this boy for nearly six years, how could she have not known otherwise?

Suddenly, the torturous yanking ceased, and his eyes raked over her body. He smirked bitterly.

Placing his right hand on her chest and pinching the first button of her shirt, he snickered, "I know how to get you to talk."

She watched in horror as he ripped open the first half of her shirt, tearing apart at least four buttons from where they were attached. She yiped out in protest, just as he suspected she would.

"I won't stop until you spill the words, bitch."

"Spineless coward."

More buttons flew out with his next ostentatious jerk. Her blouse was just about completely open now, her black strapless bra being very visible to Draco anyway. He wistfully undid what remained fastened and spread her top out to get a vivid view of her bra-clad breasts.

"...Please, Draco...don't."

He dug his hands underneath her and looped his fingers through the thin lacy material where the bra clasped. She had never seen such a longing look from anyone at that moment. His expression had softened and his lips were just barely ajar. She herself was frightened to have gotten this sort of reaction from someone who hated her so much over the years. She felt weak and at the same time powerful for having made this prick...a _Malfoy_, for heaven's sake, study her with such...hunger.

Paced hot breathing hit her chest, warming it up from the coolness of the almost surrounding outdoors. The earth stood still for what must have been at least a minute between the two of them. Antonia didn't snap out of her daze until she felt one of her three clasps unhook. The stiffness she felt protrude the sensitive area between her legs also made for a decent wake-up call. Panic raced through her again.

"Oh Jesus...you n-need to stop now-"

He glared daringly into her eyes, testing her with his every fibre. The entirety of his being. The last thing he wanted to do was obey that plea, but he was one to follow through with deals. It was just one of his many personal regulations.

"Speak."

"Draco, l-listen to me...you are better off just forgetting about all of-"

Her second clasp went loose.

And that was all it took.

"DEATH EATER!"

His hands swept out from their place just as he was about to free her from her tits' only remaining privacy. He leant upwards and sat there on her lap, wide-eyed and furious. Staring daggers into her eyes, he muttered, "_What_?!"

Shakily scoffing, she remarked, "It's what you are. You've decided to be the enemy's bitch."

She closed her eyes and did what she could to prepare her cheek for the slap of her life. She sighed and took in unsteady breaths as she awaited her punishment. Such didn't happen in those moments.

Instead, his hand seized her chin and gripped it viciously. He pressed hard with intent of getting her to reopen her eyes and meet them with his. Through gritted teeth, he asked, "You think _this _was my decision?"

With that, he yanked the left sleeve up his arm and shoved his forearm into her face.

"You think I _chose _to have this—this _thing _slathered on me?"

She didn't respond, honestly too stunned to really do much of anything at this point.

"Yes."

That one word she did manage.

She would describe his next look as the most heartbroken she'd ever seen of him. Now she truly was telling the truth. She really did believe that he had wanted to join them. It seemed fit for him, his nature, his taste. Lucius did it, so why not he, she reckoned. He was vain, proud, even purely evil in a sense. In her eyes, he favored being cruel to others. Why wouldn't he oblige to murder under the oath of the Dark Lord? Seemed as if he had a knack for that kind of activity.

"Clueless."

"I preached, Malfoy, now you get the hell off of me!" she ordered, trying on her own to fend him off with her shaky, tingling hands. He remained put. She rolled her eyes, frustration now accompanying her anguish. "Well?"

"What made you suspicious?" he pressed on.

'_Bloody hell!'_

"For the love of God…"

His fingers threaded underneath the silk band in between the two cups in front of him. This denoted another requirement of speech.

"I-I saw you enter Borgin and Burkes with your mother...I spied on you through the glass windows and saw that you were talking over something with…"

He tugged the elastic band threateningly. "Go on."

"Fucking Fenrir! There, are you happy?"

"And how do you know him?"

"He's a bloody death eater you moron! He was at the Ministry last Spring when...well, the day your _lovely _father was prosecuted."

She knew that would set him off, but not in the way she expected. He traced his fingers gently along her revealed cleavage while resting the other palm at the base of her jeans' zipper. She could never get herself to quit shivering through the past eight or so minutes she had been in his presence. Deep down inside she had a sickening feeling that she would be losing what innocence she had left at his wrath. Lord, she'd have taken Neville as her first over this pathetic heap of waste.

"Your insults...they're cute."

She couldn't believe her ears. "Excuse me?"

"I find it adorable how you always mix my father in with whatever pathetic attemptingly offensive remark you throw at me." He leant back downwards and buried his head in her neck. "Try keeping your focus on _me _for once."

That request was overwhelmingly basic.

"Arrogant, prideful, uptight, crooked-toothed, bleached-out, pale, sadistic, conceited, vain, outrageously corrupt-"

She could drag out the list no further once she realized what advantage he was now taking on her. Limp she laid as Draco ran his mouth and hands all over her. She gasped as she was being felt up in ways she had never been before. She winced as he bit down into certain pleasurable points of her neck and went practically frail as his hands moved around, touching and grasping every little inch of her bare skin.

She lay frozen beneath him, her mind having gone blank and her heart having picked up its pace significantly. His actions had her more dumbfounded than ever in her life. She could only remain in this stiff position she was in and wonder just how far she was going to let him go. As of now, he had gotten pretty far.

His pants, groans and sighs were foreign to her. She had never imagined him making such deep, guttural, hell, even erotic noises. It scared the living daylights out of her. She had a vague idea of exactly what sex was, for she had seen her fair share of R-rated films and read enough romance novels to give her what she believed to be an accurate image, but she was learning the hard way just how different her prior perception was from reality.

He slipped out of his trench coat and hastily unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to their side. Feeling his bare chest and abdomen crush into her only boosted her uneasiness. With his mouth going from her neck to her lips to all around her face and chest was making it all the more difficult for her to voice her concerns. The domineering ferret was really excelling at making advancements on her, for he supposedly knew of her virginity. If that was so, then she was gravely bothered. Was it really that obvious? She didn't have much time to think about it. She had to force herself to face this current situation.

"Draco, get off of me this instant!"

Her order hit what might as well have been deaf ears. By now he'd undone his own pants' fastenings and began to snake out of them. His fingers slithered underneath her again and undid her final clasp before she could peep any say in the matter. Her hands protectively shot over her breasts before he could toss her brassiere aside.

"Don't you dare think we're stopping _now_, pet," he spat harrowingly.

"I need to do what is right for me."

Breaking into a spasm of dark laughter, he sat back onto his knees and pointed at his thankfully boxer-clad erection and argued, "And _this _isn't?"

"Oh hell!"

She squirmed out of his barrier for just a beat before she was roughly grabbed by her ankle and jerked back towards him. She fought against him to no avail as he climbed back on top of her and ripped her clutched bra from her and threw it over the railing above.

"DEAR GOD!" she bellowed as his eyes glued to nothing else aside from her now bare breasts. She must have been in shock for some time, maybe for the next thirty seconds or so. Her cheeks felt aflame and her whole body felt on the brink of convulsing. Her nightmares had proven to be premonition all along.

"Oh...these are beautiful. Never expected that a bloodtraiting bitch like you could own such a rack."

Defeat swam in her veins and mocked her soul.

"These pants are in the way...they'll have to go, princess-"

She socked his left cheek with might that she thought was damn decent, only to have her assumption washed away by his snicker that delved from within the pits of hell.

"What a crock of bullshit it is that you actually think you are not even the _slightest_ bit aroused." He roughly squeezed each breast before him. "Your rosy little nipples can verify how you really feel for me magnificently enough."

"IT'S _THIRTY_ DEGREES UP HERE!"

With a sudden surge of empowerment, she freed herself from his hold and scampered across the tower. He promptly followed her. He captured her before she could flee down the stairs and brought her to his chest.

"We're going to cover ourselves up with my coat, capiche? And once we get going you'll warm up. If you'd just calm yourself down then this will be a pleasurable experience for you."

"Go fuck your girlfriend."

"Psh, you don't mean Pansy?"

She made a run for her torn shirt and shawl and wrapped it around her while sputtering, "I mean who-_bloody_-ever! Anyone but me! This is bogus, Draco! You're supposed to loathe me to a crisp as I do you!"

"Believe me, I do, sweetheart. Frankly, I've never hated anyone so much."

"Then why are you doing this?!"

She stood against the fencing and met her teary eyes with his. Her head was pounding and her dazed state made her want to vomit as well as make her knees just go right out. This was too much for her to handle all at once, and she felt not far from having her first nervous breakdown.

"Keep in mind," he began, his voice etched with what may or may not have been sincerity, something she thought she'd never see of Draco. "...there's a fine line between love and hate, Potter."

He garnered his slacks and sloppily and reluctantly put them back on, amazing her yet again that night. Why hadn't she suffered a heart attack yet? He grabbed his shirt and coat and stalked over to her. He held her cheek with more force than necessary.

"I find that the two correlate with one another _quite_ well."

He pecked her frigid cheek roughly making it throb lightly once his lips were removed.

"Sooner or later, you're gonna want it."

She stood still as death just as he had earlier in the very same place as he wrapped his large, black, custom-made coat around her. She stared into his eyes and that only as he covered up her nudity with his own woolen attire. She was traumatized. Literally stupefied.

Before making an official exit, he kicked her novel over to her and scorned, "I'll let you get back to your reading" in the same manner in which he'd mocked her in the Express weeks earlier.

Then he was gone.

* * *

It had taken her a while to collect herself, or at least try to. When she found that she just couldn't, she decided to do something she could do without much thought, and that was walk.

She absentmindedly wrapped the sadistic man's coat up to completely cover her breasts, taking in the heavy scent of scotch, spice and mint as she snatched her read and blouse from the cool cement flooring and began to descend the stairs. With every jagged step she took, she kept her eyes peeled for her loose bra that she had expected to find either hanging from the side railing or on a step. One hundred and eighteen steps had not revealed its whereabouts, only meaning...That fucking pervert.

Once back in her dormitory, Draco's coat went directly underneath her bed. The mates were not to see it. Ever.

She then went back out into the hall and headed for the girls' showers. She was about to scour her own flesh off. At least she initially figured she would. Instead, she sat down inside of the tub with the curtains blocking out the rest of the room.

Bewitched, bewildered and just plain bothered as she was, she felt disturbed amongst all the rest. Had she enjoyed any of that in some twisted, unnatural way? Alright, so maybe he could kiss, touch and hold her like some God of sex, but she still detested his guts.

But did despising him really mean anything?

"_There's a fine line between love and hate, Potter."_

'_Cunning devil.'_

"_I find that the two correlate with one another __**quite** __well."_

'_Reprobated dick.' _

She allowed virtually scorching water to pour onto the cheek where he had placed his dark mark-bearing forearm on. Her insides wrenched at that memory above all the others. Her long-suffered suspicions were confirmed, yes, but she had proof to offer, still.

'_Dear Fuck!'_

She brought her knees to her chest and sobbed. She did this for perhaps an hour, maybe more. She felt dirty, filthy, even. What in Godric's name did he even see in her? They were complete, literal, unequivocal opposites. She was placed in Gryffindor, he Slytherin. She was altruistic, he...was not.

She was only left to wonder one thing: When exactly did he begin to show feelings for her?

_..._

_Reminisce: Fall of 1992 - Misplaced?_

The trio had just exited Hagrid's hut following a mishap earlier that day involving an awry spell cast for a certain bratty Slytherin seeker who was letting loose a few many spiteful remarks that morning, the particular one directed Hermione's way having really set off Ron, as well as Toni. Ron shot off the spell gone haywire due to his malfunctioned wand, and _he _got Malfoy's due dosage of slugs. At least Antonia reciprocated by kicking the snooty little jerk-off in the crotch (that would land her in a month's detention later on).

As Ron spat another slimy critter into his borrowed bucket, Antonia skipped delightfully on the path they were on.

"You know you're in a large amount of trouble, Antonia," Hermione informed her, as if trying to kill her joy.

"Yeah, probably, 'Mione, but at least the arse got what he deserved!" she giggled, along with a high-five from Ron.

"That's the spirit..." he paused to upchuck. "You should be thanking her, 'Mione. After what he called you."

"Breaking the rules like that is no excuse even if...even though I was insulted as I was."

Antonia scoffed. "Of course it is."

Hermione sighed. "I'm off to the library. With hope I can locate the concoction for the Polyjuice potion we're to brew. Are you two joining me?"

"Eh, count me out, 'Mione. I don't think Madam Pince would be too happy about me being in there with, well, _this _and all," Ron excused.

"Antonia?"

"Not after that _look s_he gave me the last time I was in there...sorry, girl."

"I'll catch up with you two later."

The three went their separate ways; Ron to the infirmary, Hermione to the library, and Antonia...to somewhere.

Making her way up the pathway towards the castle, she heard someone call out her last name. She could pinpoint that sly tone from anywhere. She looked uphill to see no one other than Draco hurrying down towards her. Being the brave Gryffindor she was, only panicked a little.

She stood her ground as he hustled after her. Crossing her arms, she ridiculed "You ought to be in the infirmary, Malfoy. After what my left foot did to your junk!" He was just feet from her now, with a look of not anger, but curiosity.

"In your dreams, blood traitor. You've hurt me none." He stepped within close proximity and smirked. "I can't say the same for you though, Potter."

"You'd hit a girl?" she challenged.

"I'd sure as bloody hell hex one such as yourself. Don't try me, wench."

"Or what?"

The two twelve-year-olds stared squarely into one another's eyes, each contemplating what to say next. Some smart jeers had stuck out in the girl's thoughts, but she decided to save them for his next verbal assault. It was his move, whether he knew it or not.

"Bold, you think you are, Potter?"

"Bold, I am," she stated.

"I told McGonagall about your little, eh, foot placement. She wants you in her office before 5:30 tonight."

"Thanks for the memo."

"You know sometimes I can't help but think…" He paused to glare further downhill towards Hagrid's abode. "Just what the hell is that oaf doing down there?"

"What's it look like he's doing? He's gardening, you nimrod."

"In the middle of fall?"

"You can't help but think what, Malfoy?" Antonia snapped.

He landed his gaze back on her and mumbled "That you were placed in the wrong House."

"And what House do I rather belong in? Hufflepuff?" she laughed.

"No. You may be a worthless traitor, but everybody knows that robes laced with green would... rather suit you."

For the next few silent moments Antonia found herself in a state of dismay. What the heck did that imply? Was that supposed to be a compliment?

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Everyone's been talking about you." He smirked. "Nasty things, ever since you spoke _parseltongue_ in front of all of us. Not to mention that bloody temper of yours-"

"Temper? You think_ I'm_ the one with the anger issues? Well, I'll have you know that-"

"Hey, Malfoy!" called his mate, Goyle, from up the hill.

"Blimey," Draco sighed. He then pulled off his most obscene and abrupt move yet by spitting on the girl's cheek. "That's for earlier. See you around...Potter."

He heeled off in the other direction before she could retort. His spittle still warm on her left cheek, oozing down slowly, she murmured "What. A. Wanker."

…

Drying herself off in front of the foggy mirror, she examined her neck to find dark purplish marks every few inches apart. Her cleavage was covered in lovebites as well.

_"Son of a bitch!"_ she growled. She had a feeling that her lower back and possibly even her backside was bruised from the harsh fall proceeding his shove, before the undressing and ferocious kissing started. Again and again she questioned his purposes. Why her? It had to go beyond just physical attraction, of course. Antonia had never taken too much pride in her appearance, and personally saw herself as average looking, but as she got to notice over the years, the guys thought highly of her. With nearly every male student who'd asked her out, she would give them a thoughtful and almost empathetic "no thank you".

The thought of Remus having giving her all these bruises and marks of passion made her knees go weak and her nether regions tingle with exhilaration, but Draco on the other hand…

Why had she been so careless? She should have known she'd get caught from where she sat. A wise girl would have scurried back down the flight upon seeing _that _Slytherin occupying the vicinity, but Antonia had been far from wise that night.

By taking the riskiest of all risks, she lost some of her more sacred principles that she was really planning to save for a more right time. Now, Draco had been the first to undo her blouse, Draco had been the first to not only bite and suck but kiss her neck, and most importantly, Draco had been the absolute first to see her breasts.

Exasperatedly, she chucked her damp towel onto the ledge of the tub and dejectedly made her way back into her dorm. She laid in her bed and stared at the top of the burgundy canopy. She absentmindedly gathered her diary and opened it up to a fresh, blank page.

'_16 November '96_

_I need saving.'_


	14. The Living Daylights

**Chapter Fourteen  
_The Living Daylights_**

She slept all through that Sunday. She did not attend her potions class the next day. She could not and would not face him again. At least not for a while.

When she rose from her extended rest, the only emotion she felt was remorse. It wasn't her fault, really, and a small part of her knew this, but still, she just couldn't get over the fact that Draco wanted her.

She rather preferred the years when he called her a "filthy bitch" or a "lousy blood traitor". It sure as hell beat the brash affections he was throwing her way now. She could not fall for Malfoy. Not after all he'd done, not for what he was, not for how he treated others who were not like him. How could she love a bully? Well actually, he was more than that.

Just how was she going to tell the Headmaster of Draco's affiliations? She pondered this while she rested on the common room's sofa that Monday night. There was no way possible she could lure him into Dumbledore's office, let alone McGonagall's...at least not without striking up a risque bargain with him prior…

She gagged at the thought of that potentiality. No, she would have to resort to further planning for sure. Firstly, she would have to prevent those hands and lips of his from touching her ever again. This would prove to be difficult, certainly. He was stronger and taller, but only by three or so inches, but enough to make Antonia feel a sense of insecurity when he was glaring down at her.

Thinking back on that reflection from her second year, she considered Draco's words to be...on the verge of correct. Her formerly brave ego and overall courageousness was absent, and had been since, well, since You-Know-Who made his return official.

She snorted vehemently at the thought of vulnerability. Despite all that Draco had done to her thus far, she was still most certainly not weak, at least in the sense of standing up for herself. She had been a wreck since the godfather's death, and so she considered herself emotionally frail as well as exhausted, but she was not going to allow a fucking Malfoy to ruin her being.

With that mental vow, she placed her palm over the pocket holding her wand, then felt a whoosh of bliss engulf her.

'_He's going to fucking get it.'_

* * *

"I mean, who does he _think _he is? What right does he have to just...just grab me like that?!"

She gulped down a mouthful of bittersweet Merlot mid-rant. "I know of his family's status and all, but that doesn't give him or any of his kin for that matter, illimitable jurisdiction!"

A sigh from the tall, thick-bearded man behind the counter followed the girl's statement. Unsure of what to advise, since he himself was, well, not an attractive sixteen year old girl, he went on to mumble "What do ye expect, madam? Honestly, what the lad is doin' is only customary."

Astounded and unsatisfied with Ab's reply, she bit out a hot exclamation of "Pardon?!"

"Ye look in the mirror often, malady? You're like a magnet to fellows 'is age an' up. Such beauty will tame only the mellowest of gentlemen, but comes along a boy with a little more authority…"

"Are you suggesting that I'm supposed to just...deal with it?"

A rare emotion burst within the barman, that emotion being nervousness sided with uncertainty. As old and even wise a man he was, he knew for damn sure that he couldn't counsel a lady, especially one like this. It just wasn't his mug of hard liquor.

"What do ye want me to advise? Why tell me yer little feminine problems in the first place if ye dislike what I have to suggest?"

"I just thought that maybe you would know what to say, Ab. It's not like I can really tell anyone else about these...problems I face…"

His face knotted into that of a grimace while he proposed, "What about yer Head? Ye know, Albus...Surely he can put an end to what this hooligan's doin' to ye."

"Oh, well, the thing is he's been so busy lately. Earlier this year, he had asked me to assist him with a task of sorts. He's essentially forced me to join my potions teacher's student organization...he wants me to get on his good side, and let the man take me as his 'crowning jewel' or something odd like that. And with Voldemort's return to focus on...I wouldn't dare entangle him into the mess I'm stuck with."

He returned nothing for her, and just let her words sink into his elderly mind. As she replaced her goblet onto the wooden counter after finishing it up, she subtly let go of her pay in front of the barman and slid out of her seat with a finishing statement of "I'm rather suit with just bitching anyways. Thanks again, stranger."

…

By early December flakes of crisp snow had started to cascade from the Scotland skies lightly and gradually. While summer was Antonia's favorite season, (when not around the dreadful Dursleys) she always found harmony in the chilliest season. She enjoyed not the cold weather and need for unattractive sweaters but the outdoor view. The sight of snowflakes, or God's dandruff as she called it in her youth, nearly beat the wildflowers and flurries of dragonflies she'd get to witness each summer.

This month she, for the first time in what seemed like ages, had something to look forward to. While she admittedly grinned at Professor Slughorn's announcement of a Christmas party to be held on the 24th, the butterflies within really went ballistic at what awaited her in just a few weeks to come. She would be spending her holiday break with the Weasleys in their home in the Burrows this year, and she would also be receiving a visit from the man of her dreams, Remus.

She hadn't seen the former DADA teacher since early July, shortly after Sirius' death, when they spent some time together along with the Weasleys and her other friends in general. While away from her upstairs bedroom at the household, she felt healed in a way. Spending time with the people whom she considered to be her real family had made for a decent distraction succeeding her five or so days of non-stop grieving, and while this distraction was not enough to mend her broken heart entirely, it had proven enough to get her back on her feet.

This young lady could only presume that Remus provided the comfort she so greatly needed, and felt her stomach twist and churn at the possibility of his girlfriend, Tonks, joining him on the visit. Antonia did not hate or even dislike the young metamorphmagus for personal reasons, but her merely being in a sexual relationship with _her _wannabe lover frustrated her to no end.

With that painfully lingering muse along with what or rather who caught her eye next gave her a good enough excuse to grumble, "_Shit!_"

In the library she sat in a well-cushioned armchair by one of the tall windows while reading Alice Hoffman's Practical Magic, a book she was so far loving the hell out of though only on the fourth chapter, when she got to see the pale blond bastard gawking at her from a ways across the library nearby the Restricted Section. There he stood, nothing held, grasped or clutched in his long, white hands, a crooked smirk plastered on his face and those haunting-as-fuck gray eyes focused on the seated, crossed-legged redhead and her only. The one part of him that stuck out amongst the rest of him was his lone, right finger curling and uncurling as if to subliminally say, "_Come hither, little woman._"

Normally, Antonia would feel immense angst while in the proximity of Draco, but now, upon scanning the large book-filled room and seeing it not packed, but filled enough with students and staff alike, she chuckled to herself and perched her middle finger atop her books' spine for him to study while she reburied herself in her lovely read. Little did she know that the horridly-natured Slytherin would not accept such for a response. When he wanted something, or in this case, someone, to be summoned his way, then he would be getting it, whether it or they wanted that or not.

'_Useless scum.'_

She turned the page and read over not even two lines when two frighteningly familiar hands fell down to rest on either arm. Again, she was barricaded by the bloke of her worst nightmares. If one factor digressed from their usual get-togethers, it was that for bloody once, she was actually safe and in the presence of others.

Before she could aggravatingly bark in his face, the middle finger of her left hand was clutched dangerously tight by his cold hand. The force of his grasp on her caused her to screech out silently enough, so as to go unheard by others, much to Draco's preference.

"I ought to rip _this _straight out!" he snarled. "Think that gesture will abide with me, do you? Stupid little cunt."

"At least I'll have my _other _finger to use," she retorted with strain.

He dropped her hand and made a grab for her chin, his grip, yet again, being quite tenacious.

"It would be in your best interest to start behaving yourself, little girl, because if you do not recall-" He shot up his sleeve for her to get an even more clear view of his dark mark than before. "I've got more dominance over you than you could ever dream of."

"Go on ahead then you ludicrous moron. I dare you to take advantage of me. We're in the bloody _library_, in the midst of people who I can call out to for help at any given second!"

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, Potter, I've only come over here to strike up some much needed discussion. Fucking Merlin knows we need it after what happened during our last encounter-"

"Piss off!"

She could have sworn at that moment, his eyes turned a shade darker. His eyebrows furrowed and he adorned his usual scowl. His lock on her chin tightened more if that was even possible, and more dark threats surpassed his gritted, white and slightly crooked teeth.

"You better pray that I don't have you alone again, because I just may-"

"What? Hex me to death?" she articulated bitterly.

"Well, I'd much rather use my hands, but if you so wish to be gifted with a little Cruciatus, then I certainly would have no trouble delivering a few assaults from my wand."

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

His grimace eased and he took on a more slackened look, albeit serious and highly cut-to-the-chase.

"From the first time I met you I knew you were something, and right I was. However, I had originally intended to befriend you, but with your decline of my ridiculously simple offer, you turned all that around."

"Ah yes, I remember quite well how you so rudely belittled Ronald that night. I too got the immediate impression that you are a tightarsed git."

Proceeding a light growl, he continued, "...But even after you refused my invitation, I knew I could still own some part of you, but what I didn't realize is that, in the long run, eventually, and in time, I could actually obtain all of you."

"Oh hell, you are confused."

"And I've expected you to respond as such, Potter. You have yet to realize exactly what you feel for me."

"Oh, I feel many things for you, Malfoy, but of all that I do feel, love is not any of them."

"Not too bright are you? It seems you've already forgotten my words of how fine the bloody line is between love and-"

"Hate. Yes, I recall, Draco. How could I _just forget _how you have harassed and humiliated me the way you did."

She kneed the area between his legs with just enough exertion to throw him away from her a couple feet. She stood and tried to make a bolt for a less secluded area, only to have Draco veer her into an even less populated section.

"Cute attempt, there, Potter."

"WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?!"

"I need your help."

Words that passed his lips had never caught her so off guard. He—he had to be fooling.

"...What?"

Her back was met with a bookshelf and those long fingers pried at her shoulders. Worry pooled deep within her for the umpteenth time at his clutch. This was getting to be enough. Quite enough.

Two could play at that game. Sick and tired of being so defenseless at his security, she withdrew her wand and shoved it into his chin. She had expected him to fend off at least slightly or maybe just don a look a caution for Christ's sake, but even that petty notion was too much to want of him. He smiled wickedly while staring down at her threateningly aimed 10 inch stick melded with willow.

"Taunt me some more you prat!" she screeched as he began to chuckle in the darkest manner. "Why don't you get off your high horse and go pick on some first year? Or better yet, go off and grovel at Riddle's scaly feet. Do his bidding, as so _lucidly_ indicated on your forearm. Do as you've indefinitely vowed to do for the evil cocksucker who killed my parents!"

"Take it down a notch, sweetheart."

"Go blow him for all I care!"

Expertly, he disarmed her at a precisely stellar moment, right when she was caught up in just enough rage to derive her focus from what was in her keen hold. Her wand was, at the moment at least, out of her reach.

"What I have to offer is not what I'd call dreadful, even for the likes of you, so listen up," he whispered angrily down at her. "From here on out, you open your ears up for me, because I've been given tasks that are of _much _stress this year, and I need you to be play the therapist's role for me, and in return, I shall do the same for you."

"Why vent your shit to me? Wouldn't your cronies be of more use?" she reasoned, baffled beyond belief by his peculiar bargain.

"They wouldn't understand. Let's just say the lot of them have the mentality of a puddle of goblin piss, or your Weasley friend."

"Get on with it before I scream," she bit out.

"Every Saturday night at approximately eleven o'clock, you are to report up to the astronomy tower, just as you did a couple weeks back, and you submit yourself to me. I get to let loose a barrage of whatever the fuck is making my nerves wrack into your ear, and if you're up to it, you get to do the same."

"Winter's coming on. I refuse to stand out in the freezing cold and listen to your pissing and moaning all night long while I freeze my arse off."

"You know of a better location?" he challenged.

"The Room of Requirement."

A distraught look captivated him. "How do you know about-"

"We have a deal or what?" she interjected.

His right hand snaked into her own and shook it without further confirmation.

"Right then, pet. We'll be meeting again in short time, and you won't bail if you know what's good for you."

And with one last obscene gesture of making a quick grab at her pert bum he stalked off.

'_Motherfucker.'_

* * *

_Reminisce: Spring of 1994 - The Shrieking Shack_

The trio made their swift exit from the castle, Hermione taking a prominent lead in front of Antonia and Ron. On this particular afternoon, Hagrid's creature and pet hippogriff, Buckbeak, had an appointment with death. After that little mishap earlier that school year during the fall in Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class, involving Malfoy's arm, his arrogance, and the creature's front legs, the poor beast had to succumb to a rather cruel death that unfortunately involved an ax. Hermione as well as Antonia were bothered tremendously by this, and had been considering options that could change the outcome of this animal's fate ever since Hagrid had informed them of the awful news.

"We should just stay inside of the castle, girls. I doubt there's anything we can do," Ron said with an evident loss of hope.

"Don't give up so quickly, Ron. There's always a chance to make a difference," Antonia asserted, just when the three were faced with the three most dreadful third years.

"Oh...crap," Toni huffed.

Hermione picked up her pace downhill towards Draco and his henchprats' Crabbe and Goyle. Antonia was right on her heels as well.

"Ah, come to see the show?" he joyfully announced.

Withdrawing her wand to point it at the vile boy's face, Hermione scorned "Foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!"

The instrument of vine and dragon heartstring was jabbed at his cheek instantaneously, and he began to whimper like a bitch, much to Antonia's loving.

"Don't do it, Hermione. It's not worth it," Ron warned with a whine, while Toni sputtered the contrary.

"Don't be silly, Ron! Hex the shit out of him, 'Mione!" she chanted.

Sighing, she backed away, taking Weasley's advice regretfully.

"Right then," Draco sneered, cracking his knuckles in a pretentious manner and drilling his eyes into Antonia's soul. "I say it's time we take matters into our own hands, gentlemen. I'm dragging Potter off somewhere where I can teach her to respect her betters. Goyle, you can have the mudblood and Crabbe, you do what you like to Weasel-Bee here-"

He was cut off by Hermione's punch that gracefully landed on his nose. Draco then moronically yelped and then cowardly scampered uphill with his imbecilic mates. The band of Gryffindors shared a laugh.

"That felt good," Hermione exclaimed.

"Not good, _brilliant_," Ron congratulated.

"Next time, aim for his balls!" Antonia advised giddily.

"Yeah, yeah there's a suggestion!" Ron said.

"Now is not the time to worry about how we're going to stand up for ourselves the next time we have a run-in with Malfoy, you two," Hermione sternly put. "Because of them, we're too late."

The two red-haired thirteen-year-olds understood what she was referring to once their gaze fell on the arrival of the black hooded executioner downhill by Hagrid's hut. The three stood in shock, unable to do much more while a large, freshly sharpened blade was risen into the air. A brief shimmer went aglow once the silver edge hit a spot under direct sunlight, then swooped down subsequently to give off a sickening sound and cause a flock of crows to emerge from the surrounding decaying pumpkins and newly sprouted spring grass floor.

"Shit!" Toni cried. Hot tears began to blur her vision as well as Hermione's, while Ron wore a grim expression in response to the highly austere euthanization. Before she could sorrowfully collapse downwards to meet the ground, Ron wrapped his free right arm around her and brought her to him to soothe both girls in each arm. After spending a while soaking up his shirt with tears, a squeak was heard by Ron's hand-held pet rat, Scabbers. He dropped the rat once it had gone rogue and bit into his finger, then making its escape in the grass.

"Ow, Scabbers!" he uttered while trying to chase after the critter in the direction of the infamous Whomping Willow. The girls took off right after him, both of them keeping their fingers crossed that he'd be wise enough to keep a good distance from the deadly tree. They both knew well just how unwise Ron could be, however, especially in times like these.

"Ron!" both girls called out simultaneously. They halted atop a small mound just a ways from the dangerous willow, to see that Ron had captured his beloved rat just below the branches of said tree. In a frenzy, they both hollered out for him to move fast, though he was unaware of exactly what disaster he'd gotten himself into, as was Antonia.

"Toni! Behind you! It's the Grim!" he warned just in time for her and Hermione to step out of the storming black dog's way. He trotted beyond the girls and straight for Ron, to grab him by the ankle and drag him towards the tree.

The two sprinted for him, Antonia murmuring more curses than what was healthy or ladylike for a girl her age. She took hold of Ron's hand and began to yank back using all of her weight including assistance from Hermione and her one hundred and ten pounds. The canine's pull proved to be too much for either girl to compete with, and Ron had slipped down into a large, open space in the tree in no time.

A lengthy branch swung after them, knocking them back fifteen or so feet and preventing them from entering the gape. Even with their newfound soreness and pulled muscles, they got back up to their feet soldiered onwards.

"Dammit! Come on, we can do this!" Toni assured as the two raced for the hole. They maneuvered just a few attacking branches before they were both harshly shoved into the ground again. One got ahold of Hermione and proceeded to wring her around in the air like a limp ragdoll, while Antonia glanced around frantically for a solution of some sort, even deciding to grab ahold of a wild branch if it would help her save her friend. She didn't have to wait long for Granger's free hand to clutch onto the front of her V-necked shirt and carry her into the air with her, then let go of her once at an ideal angle to be dropped into the opening.

She made a perfect land into the hole and tumbled down a slope until she hit the stony bottom, then have Hermione crash into her back mere moments later. The two panted tremendously and Hermione apologized for her messy fall.

"Better me than that incisive rock right there," Toni dismissed before shakily coming to her feet and examining their area. "A _ride _that freaking was, huh, Hermione?" she half-chuckled, half-groaned whilst straightening up her posture and looking forward to see that this cave-like entrance led to a stairway up ahead.

"Where do you suppose this goes?" Hermione put, taking a couple steps in front of her.

"I have a nasty feeling this way leads nowhere fancy," Toni remarked. "Let's just hope that we don't run into Sloth."

Up the dark, stony steps they went with great caution as well as a sense of bravery and faith that Ron was unharmed and far from Death's doorstep. Their upward path led to an opening above which they had to climb through, then find themselves inside of what appeared to be an old house. To their left was another rickety, wooden stairway, this one being much smaller.

Hermione cleared up Antonia's ignorance to their location by whispering "We're in the Shrieking Shack...aren't we?"

The next thought to strike the redhead's mind was a yearn that she'd had her Nikon with her so she could capture some ghostly images while in this rumoredly haunted-to-the-hilt shed.

The first low creak of the first step she took sent chills down her spine, but she had to go on, for Ronald, who, if still conscious, was probably a sniffling muddle upstairs, needing the girls' help like Malfoy needed an arse-kicking.

"Girls!" Ron cried out once Antonia and Hermione were in sight.

"Oh, thank God!" Toni sighed while rushing over to Ron along with Hermione. Kneeling down to survey his bloody, injured left ankle, she asked, "What happened to that dog?"

Horror-stricken, he pointed to a corner behind them and stammered, "I-It's a trap! He's n-not a dog! He's an animagus!"

Nearby was a man looking to be in his thirties with shoulder-length, brunet, tangly hair, a dirt-covered face, severely worn and torn striped clothing and blackened front teeth. Antonia's heart skipped a few beats at the sight of whom she easily recognized to be the escaped Sirius Black. Hermione had gotten the same impression.

She took a valiant step in front of the auburn probable victim and stated, "If you want to kill Antonia you'll have to kill us too."

"No," the grimy man replied. Taking a step forward, he went on to confess, "Only _one _will die tonight."

"And it's gonna be YOU!" Toni screamed before shoving Hermione aside and lunging for the escapee. She managed to bring him down to the dusty floorboards. She suppressed the urge to sit on top of him and backhand him into unconsciousness, not that she'd likely be able to accomplish that anyways. She instead jabbed her wand against his throat.

"Are you going to kill me, sweetheart?" he chuckled with darkness not even her potions prof could bring himself to.

She was disarmed momentarily. She spun around to see that it had been her favorite professor to do the act. Remus had his wand aimed directly down at the lain criminal. He signaled the girl to move aside with a quick head-tilt, and she hesitantly stood alongside her mates.

"Well, well, Sirius, looking rather ragged, aren't we?" the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher taunted Black's ears while keeping his aim precise. "Finally, the flesh reflects the madness within."

"Well, you'd know all about the madness within, wouldn't you, Remus?" he defended from the floor.

More shock value settled in when the prof offered his hand to the enemy to take, and three hearts sank in disbelief once the man was on his feet and embracing Lupin, he in turn not only allowing it, but wholeheartedly enjoying it.

With Antonia and Ron practically speechless, Hermione put forth the accusations. "I trusted you! And all this time...you'd been his friend." She looked to the two addled couple behind her and informed "He's a werewolf. That's why he's been missing classes."

"How long have you known?" Remus cut in.

"Since Professor Snape assigned the essay."

"Well, you truly are the brightest witch of your age I've ever met!" he taunted with a followed interjection of, "Enough talking! Let's kill him!" from his accomplice.

"Wait just a minute, Sirius!"

'_Him?'_

"I've done my waiting! _Twelve _years of it! In Azkaban!" the deranged bloke protested.

"Very well…" he gave in, handing over his wand. "You wait one minute, and she has the right to know why."

"I already know why you did it you sick bastard! You betrayed them! You're the reason my mum and dad are dead!"

"No, no, Antonia. Someone did betray your parents but until recently, it was someone I believed to be dead!" Remus explained.

"Well, then who?!" she demanded.

"_Peter Pettigrew!_" Sirius answered enthusiastically. "He's in this room right now in fact! PETER! COME OUT! COME OUT AND PLAAAAAAAY!"

"Expelliarmus!" a new voice sounded from the threshold.

With Snape's arrival, Antonia just couldn't refuse mustering a hoarse, "_FUCK!_"

The greasy potions master held his wand at Sirius' cheek while ridiculing, "Oh, vengeance is sweet. How I hoped to be the one to catch you!"

"Severus-" Remus began.

"I told Dumbledore you were helping an old friend into the castle and NOW," Snape spat Remus' way. "Here's the proof."

"Brilliant, Snape! Once again, you put your "keen" penetrating mind to the task and as usual you've come to the _wrong _conclusion. Now if you'll excuse us, Remus and I have some unfinished business to attend to!"

Snape's wand nearly pierced the escape's cheek with that insinuation. "Give me a reason...I _beg _you."

"I know you can't help it; it's surely a habit by now!"

"Correlating like an old married couple!" Snape jeered.

"Why don't you go play with your chemistry set!" Sirius suggested mockingly.

"I could do it you know, but why deny the Dementors? They're so _longing _to see you...Do I detect a flicker of fear? The Dementor's kiss, one can only imagine what that must be like to endure. It's said to be nearly unbearable to witness, but I'll do my best…"

"Severus, please," Remus negotiated. Antonia obtained Hermione's wand discreetly while the three men went on with their verbal onslaught.

"After you!"

He drew his attention to Antonia, giving a curt nod as if to suggest that she run along. Her plans deviated far from the raven-haired man's wishes, however, for she now acknowledged who the real villain was.

She directed her aim at Snape and took in his addled expression before chanting her clearest "Expelliarmus!" yet. He was shot backwards into a pile of old boards, knocked unconscious from the blow.

"Antonia! You—you attacked a teacher!" Hermione said informatively albeit shocked at the same time.

Blowing the tip of her wand in an almost playful manner, she shrugged and said "Well spotted, my dear." She gazed onwards at the cloud of dust that had engulfed the boarding that Snape had been tossed into. "It had to be done."

"Now, I want one of you to tell me about Peter Pettigrew!" she ordered for the remaining two men, keeping the wand mid-air.

"He went to school with us. We thought he was our friend," Remus huffed, not convincing Antonia quite enough.

"I think not! We all know Pettigrew's dead!" She again aimed at Black and spat "_You _killed him!"

"No, Antonia, he did not. I thought he was gone too until you pointed him out on the Marauder's map."

"The map was lying then!" she disputed.

"The map never lies!" Sirius announced matter-of-factually. "Pettigrew's alive, and he's _right _there!"

His grimy finger was aimed at the squealing critter in Ron's lap. Antonia rose an eyebrow and Ron was getting the wrong impression.

"ME? He's mental!"

"Not YOU! The RAT!" he cleared up.

"Scabbers?!" Ron inquired incredulously. "He can't be; he's been in my family for-"

"Twelve years!" Black finished. "Curiously long life for a common field rat! He's missing a toe, isn't he?"

"So what!" Ron argued.

"All they could find of Pettigrew was his-"

"Finger…" Antonia had tied up the loose ends. It all was quite rational now, and tragically so. When it all added up, she had to force herself from stomping the murderer-turned-vermin into the floorboards.

"All those years, everyone thought he was DEAD! But oh no, really he'd just morphed himself into a RAT!" Sirius sang triumphantly.

"Please show me," spoke Toni, the wand now having been lowered more ground-level.

Sirius snatched the rat from Ron's hold and marched off to the other side of the room, leaving Ron to call after him, still under the false impression that Scabbers truly was just a petty...rat. He set the critter down onto a desk and shot spell after spell at him while it scampered about the floor, right until it reached an opening and suddenly, upon being slapped with a well-enough aimed incantation, gained roughly two hundred and forty pounds.

"Holy shit…" Antonia felt her knees weaken and had to lean against Hermione for support, while her friend in turn nearly had to do the same. Frankly, she was surprised that she didn't let a dam loose in her jeans from this terrifying trio backed up against the wall behind them when the rat-turned-scruffy man stood from the floor and came further into view. He was by far one of the most ghastly men Antonia had ever seen, and she thought Filch was bad.

With straining widened eyes, she and her friends watched as the man held out his arms for either man, exclaiming their names with relief and going in for a hug, only to have a wand promptly thrust into his haggard face to fend him dots spotted Antonia's vision when the disgusting bloke made his way towards her, immediately recognizing her. With the intensity of that horrible wrenching in her gut, she was confused as to why she hadn't fainted yet.

"P-potter! Oh, look at you! You look just like James' wife!"

She felt bile rise in her throat as his eyes raked over her body, and she prepared herself to give him a dead-on kick to the groin if he were to try and wrap his pathetic arms around her. Luckily, Sirius intruded his attempt by jerking him backwards by the back of his collar and pushing him to the floor. He landed on his rear with a harsh thud, two wands being pointed directly at him thereafter.

"You keep away from her you bloody coward!" Sirius shouted down at him.

"P-P-please, my friends!" he sputtered.

**'**_**Kick his nuts in!'** _Toni's brain screamed.

"You sold James and Lily to Voldemort, didn't you?" Remus inquired with vexation.

"I-I didn't _meeeaaaaan _to! You have no—no idea, the weapons he possesses! He—he was going to chop my willie straight off!" he whiningly excused. He turned to Sirius asking "What would you have done? Hmm?!"

"I WOULD'VE _DIED_! I WOULD HAVE DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY MY FRIENDS!" he responsively scorned like a goddamn hero.

Pettigrew sped for the doorway, only to be stopped by Antonia, who used every godforsaken nerve in her body to deliberately barricade the exit.

Little did she realize that the derelict traitor would dig his long and contaminated fingernails into her shoulder blades and beg into her ear for help. Hot spittle landed on and inside of her right ear as he pleaded "Antonia! James wouldn't have wanted me killed! He he, tell _them _that, won't you? T-tell them, that—that your dad would have spared me! He would haaaa-"

The greatest sigh of relief of her thirteen years was let out once Sirius and Remus dragged him backwards and into the wall. With precisely aimed wands, Sirius declared "You should have realized, Peter, that if Voldemort wouldn't kill you, _we _would!"

"NO!"

All eyes were on the shivering redhead at the threshold.

"Antonia...this man is-" Remus began, to be cut short.

"Oh, I know what he is, sir, but we're going to take him back to the castle."

Falling to his knees, Pettigrew clapped his hands together and gave his blessings for the girl, apparently thinking too positively. Antonia had some twisted intentions for him in all actuality. Justice would be served on her and her parents part that night.

"Hold your damn horses you pile of rubbish. I said we are going to take you up to the castle, but then after that, the Dementors can have you."

She felt not a hint of remorse at the sobbing fit he then threw.

…

While exiting the shack and descending the stairway, Sirius apologized to Ron for the nasty gash he left on his ankle. Ron then whined that he nearly tore his leg off.

"In my youth, James once suggested that I make the dog transformation permanent. The tail, I can live with, but the fleas...they're murder."

For the first time in hours, Antonia giggled. Sure, she was still in a rather large amount of shock that this man had turned out to be the complete opposite of what she thought he was for the last eight months, but at the same time, she was learning to adapt to his presence more and more by the second.

Ron and Hermione rested on a stump once they were all out of the gape, while Antonia was a little too willing to follow Sirius down the hill to take a seat.

"Are you feeling okay?" she softly asked her injured friend.

"...Never been better."

"You can go be with him, Antonia. I'm here for Ron," Hermione assured, essentially giving her permission.

"I'll be back, you two."

She shyly trailed on to stand by the man who turned out to be family. She caught his view of the castle, which from this standpoint, looked magnificent, especially with the starry sky shining down over it.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, Antonia? I'll never forget the first time I walked through those doors. It'll be nice to do it again as a _free _man."

Patting her back, he continued "That was a noble thing you did back there. He didn't deserve that."

"I didn't think it would have been, well, right, to have you and your best friend be...killers. Also, we need to keep him alive for at least a while longer, so as to ensure your freedom, if you get my gist."

"Wise girl," he congratulated.

Ignoring the squabble and audacious squeals of mercy from Pettigrew a ways back under the security of Remus, Sirius spoke on. "I don't know if you know this, Antonia, but when you were born, James and Lily made me your godfather."

"I know. I found out recently."

"Oh...Well, I could understand if you wanted to stay with your aunt and uncle, but, if you ever wanted to reside in a different home…"

She could not believe her ears. "Are you saying I can live with you?" she piped in, her excitement evident.

"Well, with a few made arrangements I believe I can make that hap-"

"Antonia!" Hermione hollered worriedly. Sirius and her looked yonder to see that a bright, full moon was rolling in through the cloudy night sky. She suddenly recalled the werewolf amongst them, and her godfather got the memo long before she did, judging his full-on bolt for the professor. She joined him uphill and watched in awe as he held onto the fast changing victim of lycanthropy.

"Have you taken your wolfsbane tonight, Remus?" he asked in a panicked tone. He in turn seemed unable to answer, his eyes now having stretched out into slits and his pupils having turned to a charcoal-black. He shook violently in his stance and his neck crooked at an odd angle.

"You know the man you truly are, Remus! Find him in your heart! This heart is where you truly live, this heart _here_!"

Once a wand was freed from grasp, the cowardly captive plucked it up quickly from the ground. Antonia disarmed him just a tad too late, for he was back into his vermin form in moments. Just as she was about to heel after him, Hermione tugged her back. Her eyes were now set on the quickly morphing teacher who was altering in many ways. His bared teeth were visibly sharp, similar to that of a dog's, and fur sprouted from his face, hands and likely legs as well. His hands and feet turned to paws in an instant, and he was notably taller.

Sirius kept his embrace on him tight for as long as he possibly could before the damage was thoroughly done. He was tossed into the ditch that rest aside, leaving the trio vulnerable to the creature's wrath.

Momentarily, he was still, panting lightly and hurled over, almost appearing innocent, as least, in the eyes of Hermione.

"Wait...Professor Lupin?" she said.

They waited apprehensively for an answer, and received a howl for the moon above.

"He's gone, Hermione," Antonia murmured as she backed away just as she had done so much in that night alone. To add to their inferno, Snape slithered from the space they had exited not long ago and made a fierce grab for the front of Antonia's shirt, though she was too stunned by the advancing beast to hardly notice.

"Potter! Do you know how much trouble you're in?" he snarled.

"Look," she managed to warn. Upon sight of the peaking wolf who was now just a short distance away, Severus shielded them from him using himself. Antonia winced and huddled with Ron and Hermione just as Lupin was about to swipe them with a vigorous claw, until a familiar black dog pounced for him, throwing him away from the four.

The two canines fought in a tangled pile downhill, then moved on to bringing their duel further out towards the woods. In spite of fearing that her godfather would seriously maim himself, or die, Antonia sped after the two.

"Potter! Get back here!" she heard Severus shout, but paid him no heed. Not that she ever really did anyway.

Once she saw that Remus was winning the brawl, she hurriedly located a decent sized rock and hauled it at him, it making an effective land at the back of his head, deriving his focus onto her. Snarling and crawling towards the defenseless girl, she angrily mused her stupid solution.

'_By God, I'm a damn idiot!'_

She cowered as her DADA teacher was about to perform his death swat right down on her, but then was saved by a howl that echoed from deep within the forest. When it sounded again, the werewolf ran off towards the call.

A typical dog's whimper hit her eardrums along with the sight of her godfather, well, being her godfather again, again reaching his full height of five feet and ten inches. He stormed off after his complicated best mate, and Antonia followed.

* * *

A/n:

For anyone who doesn't know, Sloth, as briefly referenced by Toni, is the disfigured prisoner man thing from_ The Goonies_ :) If you haven't seen it, you should.

So, what exactly will the upcoming 'meeting' between the Slytherin &amp; Gryffindor be comprised of? Just more abuse...or perhaps something deeper...maybe another side of young Mister Malfoy will be unveiled...? More shocking elements are to be unfolded ;)


	15. Draco's Disquisition - (Part One)

_(I've re-named this chapter and the next. No content has changed.)_

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen  
_Draco's Disquisition - (Part One)_**

'_5 December '96_

_I am so trapped. I cannot tell anyone of what I'm faced with. Draco has forced my into being his vent machine, a void from which he can bitch on about his regrets that were easily preventable in the first place. For the time being, I honestly see no way out of this, and he's already threatened me not to skip out on our ordeal or else I am to succumb a nasty comeuppance…_

_Fuck him and fuck his declarative authority! Maybe on our first meeting this Saturday night I'll grow out my nails and then pierce what little balls he does have hanging between his legs...that ought to get him to hate me again... _

_But when faced with him in all actuality, I feel this pathetic sense of fear, like he could actually harm me in some way...but, then again, he already has harmed me, and in many ways at that._

_Shit.'_

And that Saturday was less than two days away. Antonia knew well that all she had to do to put an end to Draco's persistence was to go to Dumbledore, but a fragment of her was far too curious as to what exactly it was that he had to bitch about. After all, the more she knew about Malfoy's shenanigans regarding You-Know-Who, the more she could tell the headmaster. He was sure to believe every word she'd say, since Antonia had, over the years, built up an honest approach towards most of the staff and adults she knew, except for Snape, of course.

Upcoming in a couple of weeks was Slughorn's Christmas party on the 24th, and there was no question about it that she would be going with Neville, for she had been technically dating the fellow for the last few weeks.

There was really no chemistry on her behalf of the relationship, simply because she did not feel attracted to the other Gryffindor, but she still accepted his peck on their second date several days earlier in Madam Puddifoot's. If he wanted to make out, then she would oblige, and if he wanted to hold her hand while they walked through the halls, then she would do so, because she just didn't have it in herself to break his heart. He had made it clear that he had stored these wound up feelings for her since at least second year, and that touched her heart unlike Draco's odd reasoning. Neville would let her have her say in things, and he would laugh at her cheap jests and give her the compliments she needed, and he along with her goofy pal Ronald made for ideal best male friends, but nothing more than that, she decided.

By Friday evening, Antonia's stomach was tied up into the thickest of knots. She acknowledged with great apprehension what she had coming her way within the next thirty or so hours by the suggestive smirks she was receiving for the entire hour of potions class that morning.

Draco had continuously shot her winks and smiles that belonged to the most perverse of men out there. His taunting glares were even comparable to a demon from the pits of Hell. It made her lose her focus and go light headed, and the worst part of it all was that she was unable to stop looking back his way from all the way across the room, his cocked head peering her way from her peripheral view having gotten the best of her for the entirety of the class period. She was even so distracted that for the first time that year she allowed Hermione to borrow her advanced potion-making textbook, thereby granting _her_ acclaim by the end of the hour by Professor Slughorn.

Once the hour had ended, she was slipped a folded piece of parchment from Goyle, who hushedly told her it was from Malfoy, though she could've have guessed as much anyways. When Hermione and Ron weren't watching, she flipped it open to read an almost painfully annoying reminder.

'_Remember our deal. __11:00 p.m. sharp_ _tomorrow in the RoR. Bring no one, tell no one, and do not wear panties. -Draco'_

"That lewd git!" she bit out a tad too loudly, grabbing the attention of the bushy-haired bookworm aside her.

"Is everything all right, Antonia?" she asked, her tone etched with familiar concern.

"Oh, yes, it's just that I, em, overheard the couple in front of us...never mind."

"So, once I was through with the concoction, I skimmed around other sections of the book," Hermione said, placing the older version into her friend's palm.

"And?" Antonia pressed on.

"I'm not sure that it's a necessarily _good_ guide to go by, good, as in, safe. I'd caught a few, well, dark notes in there, that seemed to refer to more violent curses. I'm going to look into this 'Half-Blood Prince' as well. I'll let you know what I find," she paused to sigh. "_If_ I find anything."

"Fair enough. I'll have you know that those 'dark notes' are getting me my first ever perfect marks in that subject _ever_. Besides, I'd bet that those other inscriptions are just creative notes from its former owner, who was probably just some lonely Slytherin or Ravenclaw."

"Yeah, you ought to let me have a gander at that thing some time, Toni. I could use at least something close to substantial…" Ron put, seeing the usage of the book harmless just as much as its current owner, leaving Hermione to sigh and let the two believe what they pleased, just until she could figure out exactly who the book's original owner was.

While stuffing the text into her bag, Antonia giddily inquired "So, have you found someone to court you to the party yet, 'Mione?"

"Court?" Ron spat with a quirked ginger eyebrow.

"Not at the moment, no, but Cormac's been pestering me around the clock lately to go with him...though, personally, I'd rather not."

'_I get the feeling...'_ she thought, almost wanting to say it aloud, but there was no need to stir up any true speculation that she did not want to be going out with Neville, especially when these two already thought that their relationship was going quite nicely, superb even.

"Pfft, I think that McLaggen is only after _one thing_," Antonia insinuated, followed by a curt, blushing nod from the girl to her left. "Losers like him need to aim their desires for the more loose girls, you know," she threw in. "Girls not like us."

…

All she did for the late hours of Friday afternoon was lay flat on her stomach in her dorm, staring at the note from the blond who thought himself a god of some sort. Her attention was placed on the final word he wrote before scribbling his signature.

Panties, and the demand not to wear any.

She was already being forced to confront him on the seventh floor's hidden room, and just how the hell could he truly expect her to show up without wearing undergarments? Thinking back to that afternoon in the library, she recalled that he had not said anything about a required romp during their meet, to her rare lucky stars. He had merely indicated that he would like to use her to "let loose a barrage of whatever the fuck" is making his nerves wrack into her ear. By that, she prayed to the Saints above that he meant petty whining.

Still, she'd have much rather spent her free night in the Hog's Head letting loose her own barrage to Aberforth. She would have resorted to Hagrid, but she didn't want to worry him with her troubles, for he showed far more concern than the grousing old barman in her favorite run-down pub. Now she had to give herself, or rather, her ears up for a sure-to-be long night on the castle's top floor, and again, _why_ couldn't the death eater just blab to his own mates about his irks?

Reflectively, she had answered her own question.

Perhaps for the same reasons she could not tell her own mates of her dilemmas. Perhaps his issues were just far too complicated for his cronies' comprehension. Maybe they would not think his ways of dealing with circumstances were proper or normal for a pureblood. Hell, what if he had something _sentimental_ to share? Something he could never man-up to telling his Slytherin pure-buddies?

If that was the case, she still did not want to be in his vicinity ever again, not after how he'd treat her with their every encounter. Not after the abuse he'd inflicted on her, the beatings, the bitter insults, harsh sexism...the general bullying he treated her with. Since their fourth year, she had been haunted by him in nightmares, usually sexual, and would often scream herself and her roommates out of their stupors in the middle of the night, all because of him and his cold disposition.

She lost herself in her own beyond worried thoughts for a while while all of her roommates were out doing something lighthearted and fun to kick off the start of the weekend. Her eyes were locked on the cursive seven lettered word that was so sensual for reasons she could not understand nor want to. His intent to have her not have soft fabric cover up her private areas made her heart race and her blood clot in delirium. They were not going to have sex, so what did what she would and would not have on matter?

Nothing at all, she had to conclude. The first two commandments she could follow, but the last one could sod off. She ripped the small parchment to shreds and brushed every piece off of her mattress. Her face met the sheets in a fast motion as her long and lithe legs hung loosely over the edge of the bed. She fought the temptation to scream into her pillow just as she did in the hours following her godfather's death. She came close to giving it a go until she heard a light knock at her door.

She shot up with the swiftness of an alert deer. That was odd, normally the roommates just walked in without first knocking…

"Um, Antonia? It's Neville. I was told by Hermione that you were down here...Though if you are not, uh, then I suppose I'll be on my way…"

She exhaled all of her pent-up angst. "Come in, Neville."

The door slowly swung open and in peered Neville, looking rather bashful with flushed cheeks and a coy smile.

"Oh, hey. I just wanted to know if you are...up for a trip to the village tonight?" he asked, his body not even half way into the room.

"Get in here, Longbottom, you goof!" Antonia chuckled at his evident nervousness. Nodding, he stepped in and closed the door.

"Nice dorm you have got here," he said as he studied the space's every nook and cranny, mostly catching glimpses of dirty underwear on the floor and bras that hung over the bed frames. Not to mention the pile of makeup over on the desk they all had to share.

"Yes, it's hell of a suite, ain't it?" she giggled. "Neville, I want to take you someplace fancy tonight."

He looked very interested in what she had to say. His face lit up as he said "Oh? Okay then. Like where, if you don't mind my asking?"

God, he was a gent.

Smirking, she rose and got down onto her knees to reach for something underneath her bed. She dragged out a stereo along with two black speakers, each the size of a box of cereal. He gazed at her quizzically as she fished through a box of CDs and tapes that had a pair of headphones hanging over the edge. Seconds later, she held a CD titled: _One Hot Minute_ with a logo for The Red Hot Chili Peppers on the bottom, a muggle band that Neville was unbeknownst to, but not for long.

"Here, can you carry these?" She handed him the speakers as she carried her stereo, a handful of unusual Cds and coat, leaving him bemused in return.

"Sure. Eh, where are we off to?" he asked as they exited the dorm.

Grinning while feeling excitement for the first time in far too long, she kept him hanging with "You'll see."

…

"Voilà!" she chirped as she led the way down the snowy path that led to the place Neville had least expected.

"Fancy, huh?" he laughed as he trailed behind her, stepping into the footprints she had left as he did.

"I want you to meet Ab. He's a really cool man, _and_ he'll serve you anything! No limits on his part."

"Hold on, have you been coming here for a while now?" he asked, his tone reeking of concern and suspicion.

"It's better than you think, lovely. Sure, it's a little dark and eerie, but the fireplace and stories the barman has to tell make it so you're in a place of...comfort. I myself love coming here."

"Not to drink?" he questioned with unease.

She almost stopped in her tracks, but carried on, answering him truthfully with, "To experience, I'd say."

She heard him sigh in what was probably disbelief, but marched on nonetheless. She was going to ensure their entertainment that evening. She was striking a potentially risky move with what she had planned, but she was certain that what she had in mind would give the lifeless Inn the zest it so direly required, whether the old barman thought the same or not.

"What's with all this, then?" he huffed as they reached the entrance.

"I'm going to lighten up the joint tonight with a little alternative rock," she answered while stomping off the snow that had stuck to her boots before entering.

"And you _have_ gotten Aberforth's permission, I presume?"

"Hehe...not yet."

Before he had the chance to opinionate she was off towards the end of the spacious main entrance in a graceful flurry. He did his best to meet her with mirrored speed.

Just as she had guessed prior to showing up, the ladies and blokes were, as usual, just sitting around at their tables or on their stools at the counter, their heads rested in their hands and yawns, coughs, wheezes and low grumbles were heard from all over the cavern. This was saddening in the eyes of Antonia Rosemary. It was high time the place learned to jump from its still form in nearly ridiculous equilibrium.

She confidently strode up to the counter where Ab was rubbing a mug's interior with a cloth, his head hanging low and the impression he gave off being one of weariness.

"Ab!" Antonia called out to him, getting him to groggily tilt his head in her direction to the right of the room where the threshold was.

"Ah, good evening, madam. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Oh, I'm not hankering for drinks yet, sir. This is my friend, Neville Longbottom." She stepped aside so the tall and minorly timid lad could shake the barman's hand.

"Tis nice to meet you. An' what would you like?" the elder man spoke, leaving Neville in a state of uncertainty until the redheaded witch made her proposal.

"I've brought along something that can help improve business, Mister Dumbledore. If you don't mind, I'd like to fill the air with some jams; really give the place the spark it needs," she stated, receiving a look of scrutiny from the man behind the counter.

"Jams? I am not entirely keen that that is really...well, mandatory…"

"Oh, it is. Just you watch."

With valiance her House would be damn proud of, she led Neville to an open area towards the back section of the pub, having him place the speakers on two dust-covered crates she pushed together to form a table, placing the stereo between them, then the disk to follow.

"A-are you positive about this, Antonia?" Neville asked in nervous unpredictability.

She did not answer, but pressed down on a button with an inscribed triangle on it, then backed away, taking his hand in hers.

Dead silence settled in seconds later, the only noise to be heard being what erupted from the other-worldly mechanism perched on the tune was identifiable to Antonia as well-dignified guitar tuning with the soon-to-arrive chanting from one of her most adored muggles, Anthony Kiedis.

Eyes of all shapes and sizes from all over the pub were rested on the two who stood by the stereo. Smiling awkwardly, Antonia tried to signal all who were seated to rise using her arms and calling out, "Come on, get up and dance!"

As the beat picked up, several attendees did at a time. Antonia was so far the only one getting into the groove, shaking her hips as if she were in a nightclub, trying her best to get Neville to do the same.

It took a couple of minutes to get just over half of the place up and moving, though some of the older fellows chose to stay in their rightful seats. Occasionally, she would glance over towards the counter to see Aberforth gazing over his bar and its customers in astoundment. She was just thankful that his expression was not one of anger, because yes, she had feared that he would not abide with her brash deed.

Her course of action had proven for the best that night, and this was the hit of elation she had been pining for for months. Dancing with Neville in the usually desolate pub, managing to get others to do the same, and for _muggle_ music at that, downing daiquiris, introducing good-guy Neville to hard liquor and cavorting until early hours into the morning.

She didn't even take Ab's threat to ban her from the inn if she were to ever pull off something like that again to heart as she left with her belongings and her right arm slung around her boyfriend's shoulder for support, he too being a tad buzzed.

* * *

After Neville gave the reformed socialite a kiss at her door before leaving, she would sleep almost blissfully through the night after having such an incredible time out in town, but then she'd wake up late the next day having all that was to be done yet surface her mind. 'All that' being her appointment on the seventh floor that night at approximately eleven p.m.

She could not go out with Neville that night, so she would just have to try to avoid him all day. If he were to see her, he would surely take his hand in hers and suggest that they do something fun in the village again, to sort of reenact that hell of a time they had the previous night. Obviously Antonia could not tell him about Draco's idiosyncratic proposition, nor could she tell him anything about, well, anything that went on between her and the Slytherin that had went down thus far.

Again, she laid underneath her covers and finished up the remainder of Alice Hoffman's greatest work yet. It was four in the afternoon, dignifying that she had missed both breakfast and lunch, leaving her to look more forward to dinner than ever before in her time at Hogwarts.

She pondered why Hermione had yet again not bothered to wake her up for either of the meal times, and remained hurt by this until she recalled telling her a while ago that she preferred sleeping in uber late every Saturday. The brightest witch of their year had kept that in mind. Antonia would have to thank her later.

Once 5:45 rolled around and she had grown sick of lounging around her dorm with her walkman and R.E.M. playing, she put on her favorite black string-strapped dress and shrugged into her baggy green jacket before heading out to the Great Hall. Despite her rumblings, she could not bring herself to eat much because the other You-Know-Who was ogling her down like a hawk over its prey, nearly unnerving her into oblivion.

Neville kept his arm linked around her waist gently during dinner that night, and she was remorseful to turn down his offer to a joyous night in The Three Broomsticks. It was a war within keeping down the urge to tell Neville to murder Malfoy and bury him underneath the Whomping Willow, for if that could be done, then she would be free to do anything that night.

But she couldn't. The Lord knew just what punishment she would have to endure if she were to skip the meeting that night. After the lashing she'd gotten that day in June earlier that year when his daddy was incarcerated because of her "fucking sincerity", she could not possibly bear another thrashing like that, especially with her prevailing low spirits. Her nerves had ground so terribly that she threw up twice before eleven swung around, and before she trudged up to the school's highest floor, she stuffed both her wand and a canister of mace into her jacket's pocket, well-prepared if anything were to get too far out of hand. Unfortunately, things were bound to.

She took her time in ascending each flight, uncaring if she were a minute or twenty late. She should not have even _had_ to do this in the first place. When she reached her destination, she went through the routine and walked into the room knowing Draco would already be there.

Unwilling to see his sly smirk, she stormed into the room with her eyes closed while clearly saying, "I _am_ wearing panties. Now let's hurry this up, 'cause you've cost me a date over this shit!"

Sniggers traveled back her way, and if she was not mistaken, it sounded like it was coming from more than just Draco. Her eyes shot open to see that her assumptions were correct. There standing next to the waste of life was a tall, African American mate of his, with his arms crossed behind his back and a simper that was not quite as mirthless as his counterpart's. Antonia's cheeks went aflame.

"What is he doing here? I thought this was going to be done in...solitude."

"Oh, we'll be alone soon enough, _sweetheart_," Draco spoke patronizingly. "First we need to get something else out of the way, if you will come over here."

All of her notions and instincts were screaming at her to turn around and get away from whatever she was about to walk into, and she didn't think a second time about it. Seeing this as an embarrassingly turned-out joke, she huffed angrily to herself and headed back outside against his wishes.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Potter. Take one more step and you'll feel a level of pain you didn't know exists."

At that, she spun around and barked, "What do you want?!"

He merely glared at her without making a noise. His savage grin was making her feel more irate than what was healthy for a young lady her age. She swore under her breath and met up with him in the middle of the drafty room with crossed arms and an attemptively menacing scowl that only made the condescending blond's dick stiffen at the allure of it.

"Well?"

He snapped out of his brief trance and took her right hand and held onto it with force that made prickles shoot up her arm.

"What the fuck are you-"

"To ensure your loyalties, we're going to first undergo a little vowing, which is why I have Blaise here."

"_My_ loyalties? You're the one working for the fucker who wants to kill me!"

"Cram it. I can't have you running off to Dumbledore or Hagrid to tell them what I am going to be telling you tonight, so be a good girl and do as I say. Blaise, address the first inquiry."

"Fuck you-"

His left hand met her lips and roughly ceased her dispute while nodding to his taller friend aside to begin the spell. The girl's eyes widened as a thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire. She did not feel the effects of what she was seeing but a wrench from her abdomen.

"W-w-what are you doing-"

"Hush," Draco cut in softly yet stern as the Bonder cleared his throat before speaking.

"Um, do you, Antonia Potter, promise to keep what you hear in this first session to yourself, and yourself only?" the deep voice asserted, making Antonia's blood pressure hit the roof in trepidation. She closely surveyed the Slytherin holding the wand, in no way willing to follow through with that question,until of course an icy backhand met her right cheek, letting her know that she had _better_ agree. She had no idea what all of this was even about, but she was certain that this was just a threatening gimmick the two thought up to frighten her. She wanted to laugh at the prospect of not having to take any of this seriously.

"Yes, I do," she said, grimacing upon waiting for the next statement.

"And do you solemnly swear on your parents' graves that you-"

"I'm not swearing _anything_ on my parents' graves, you son of a bitch!" she interrupted hotly, to be gifted with another rough blow across the cheek with Draco's free hand.

"Go on, mate, and _you_ keep your fucking lips sealed until he's through speaking," he bit out, tightening his grip on her wrist with throbbing exertion, making her wince.

"...Would you like me to start over, then?" Blaise asked.

"No, just, just, bloody hell, forget it, just go."

"Okay!" she exclaimed happily and began to retreat, but he held her in her place and growled "_Not you!_" through gritted teeth.

Blaise gave a curt nod before ending the spell and departing the vicinity, leaving the two be. Draco let go of the witch's slender wrist and stalked off towards a large and well-cushioned gray armchair further into the room.

While he brushed a thick cloud of dust and crumbs from the seat, Antonia looked over her surroundings to notice just how dim the lighting was in this room. In fact, the only source of illumination was the moonlight that shone in through the vast window panels. The air was not as warm as she would have liked but it surely beat what she would have had to deal with if their meeting was on the astronomy tower.

"Why is it that you hate me so much, Malfoy? Is it because I didn't shake your hand that fateful night five years ago?"

She knew that would catch him off guard, even put a stopper in his train of thought. She did her best to ignore the volt of shudders that slid down her spine at an overwhelmingly slow pace as he set his heavy glare on her for what could have been the billionth time.

"_That_ would be one of many reasons, Potter. Now," he plopped down into the chair, his sudden weight having caused a heap of buried dust to rise and evaporate in the air. After coughing in response to the cloud, he patted his right leg and continued on with, "Come here. There is no time to waste."

Warily, she stepped into his direction, her arms still crossed and her mien still contorted into one of frustration. With no more than a foot distancing them, he leant back into his seat, making himself as comfortable as he could as he looked up at her, taking in sick, personal pleasure at her clear as day anger.

"Take a seat, won't you?" he offered in the kindest tone he'd used with her in all the time they'd known each other, of course with still a hint of patronization. Rolling her eyes, she began to kneel down to sit on the dirty floorboards until he spoke up and told her otherwise.

"No, no, baby, not down there." He waved over himself, a suggestive smile playing over his lips in mockery. "_Here_, on my lap."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Since when do I kid you, Potter? As far as I can recall, I've always been rather straightforward with you in all situations, haven't I? So I'd recommend you do as I say and be a _very obedient_ little girl for me in the hours to come...unless you'd like me to repeat what I've said earlier, and if that needs to be done, you're going to leave here sore in muscles you don't even realize you have."

"For Christ's sake—whatever! Okay, fine!" She threw herself down onto his thighs a tad faster and rougher than he had planned, but the bold move had turned him on nonetheless. Having the woman of his every dream, nightmare and niggling muse here on his lap _almost_ fulfilled his desires of being on top of her on his mattress, both of them without a scrap of clothing on, he inside of her extraordinarily tight sex as he thrust, groping her pert arse to further himself into her while his mouth ran along the gorgeously bouncing mountains before him, her nipples standing out like nails just barely drilled into a wall, and her moans, gasps, coos, and sighs hitting his eardrums like the most melodious of fucking symphonies, her heart galloping like a stag through of meadow leading to his mate-

"There!" she muttered as she crookedly knelt in his lap. "And about the 'hours to come', well, they're not going to be spent in here with you. I'm not staying in here any longer than twenty minutes, so start talking."

"Think again, love," he snapped as he tenaciously took her waist in his hold and shifted her into a more relaxing position for the both of them, raising her dress up above her waist in the process to spread her legs further, absorbing her pissed off blush like it was fine wine. "This is going to take as long as I would like it to, and considering just how much I do have to tell you, with that being said, just keep in mind that the two of us are going to be like this for quite a _while_."

"And why do I have to be in your lap for this?" she grumbled with a scowl that accentuated nearly enough temptation to make the man's already mild erection burst through his fly and strike the clothed sensitive area between her legs.

"Because I'd like you to be."

Toning down to a dejected gaze into his intimidating gray irises, she said, "You can't control _everything_ I do, arsehole. I can understand that your peaking pedestal is just too dandy to step down from, but that doesn't give you the right to take practical ownership of the live's of others."

Frigid fingers gripped the front of her lissome neck while his sight was set on her ample mouth, the very one he craved to possess with his own; to suck on her teeth and slide his tongue down her throat in just the same perverse manner he did on the Express.

"I'd sure as fuck love to own you, poppet," he chuckled so darkly that it made her jerk in his lap. "You have no clue...what I'd do to you...what I'd have you do to me."

"Keeping talking like that and it will never happen."

Those words took him aback more than he could imagine feasible. That declaration was so much deeper than she likely understood herself. Was there...a chance? If he were to just alter his ways for the better…

"By that, you mean…" he had to press on.

"If you were, well, not what you are, you know, a loathsome, heartless prick, then perhaps in some Twilight Zone reality I would, or could, be yours." She overlooked his dumbfounded look and went on, "But since the truth differs from that, then such cannot happen."

Now infuriated as well as hurt, he latched onto a handful of her locks and tugged viciously while mustering, "Why can't I be yours?"

"You've—you have done too much damage! You are, and always will be, a bully! I can't just fall in love with what you are!"

"Dare you challenge me? As if _you_ are bloody aware of the torture I've been through, cunt!"

"Isn't that why I'm here?! To find out?!" she reasoned once his pull was powerful enough to nearly pluck a bundle of auburn strands from her skull. With that reminder, he dropped what silky hair he had in his fingers and huffingly collected himself.

"With the Vow said and done, I hope you'll be wise enough to keep what you've promised, _promised_."

"...Vow?" She went pale at the vision of the thin stream of a golden red that whirled around her wrist as well as his for over a minute.

"Oh...this is precious," he laughed. "You haven't an idea what that was back there, do you?"

Once stress hit her system, she mumbled, "What...was that?"

"You've committed yourself to an Unbreakable Vow you ignorant little bint. If you dare even _think_ about ratting out my words to anyone, you will meet your demise."

Nausea and lethargy rang through her once his explanation had sunken in. Her throat constricted as she squeaked, "I-I will die if…"

"You tell anyone. Pfft, you didn't think that I was just going to let you off with a good night's kiss and a best friend's trust, did you? Sweet Salazar, I was hoping you were at least brighter than a sodding bread box, but you have proven that notion true…"

"...But why me?"

His eyes narrowed in annoyance. He was beginning to feel as if he were repeating himself, just in different phrases and forms. Swiftly, his hands went for her face, and she flinched, expecting the usual, however, this time he used his palms to comfort her, over causing her pain.

Brushing wisps of free curled hairs behind her ear, he affirmed, "Every last bit of you amazes me. I've known this since the first time I met you in Flourish and Blotts. I could tell from the start that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with me, and until recently, I couldn't help but wonder why. All during that train ride from London I blocked out all the shit that Crabbe and Goyle had to tell me and contemplated on exactly how I was going to approach you before we were sorted. At the time I didn't even give a damn whether or not you were going to be a Slytherin; I just wanted to have you." He paused to scoff. "And so the direct approach didn't quite intrigue you the way I wanted it to. For reasons fucking beyond me, you chose to befriend the utmost losers in existence. Frankly, I would have bet my entire estate that you wouldn't go along with _Weasley_." He spat out that surname as if it were poisoned, making the agitated girl in his lap clench her fists in petulance. "Well, my plans did not go to my accord, so I had some more plotting to do, and so I began to formulate that night after we were sorted. I had come to the conclusion that I'd be getting what I want by-"

"Whoa, hold on, now, Malfoy!" she blurted, cutting him off mid-sentence, heavily risking a swat across the cheek. "I don't know why you're yakking on about your infatuation with me from when we were eleven, but I seem to remember only agreeing to hear your answers as to _why_ you're working for Voldemort."

Cupping her cheeks with more coercion than necessary, he carried on, "Didn't I tell you this could take _hours_, Potter? Whether it is of your preference or not, I am starting from the beginning. The _very_ start. In the end my goal is to see that you understand my motives, or at least hear me out, because it's not often that I pour my heart out and discuss the intentions of my very soul to others, not even the oafs who I call my closest mates. So, you are going to stay like this here, you are going to let me rest my hands on your waist and you are going to keep your fucking mouth shut."

That jeer made her want to swing a fisted knuckle at his perfect nose and smash it into something shattered beyond repair, but the thought of this 'Unbreakable Vow' whipped her impulses into formality, and she hesitantly gave in.

"I'm listening."

* * *

A/n:

_ thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire _is a borrowed quotation from its original writer, Queen Rowling, just in case anyone noticed. I wanted to use it to describe the Unbreakable Vow spell with precision :)

Thank you for reading. I hope this is enticing enough so far. Plenty of dialogue from Draco coming up in Part Two...Feel obligated to put forth your inquiries or feelings, as always.

I've also posted another HP fic on here titled 'Maid of the Manor', focusing on Lucius Malfoy and an OC...and some Dobby too, so check that out if you crave yourself some corrupt and heavily biased Lucius. The 2nd chap for that will be up soon.

~JLM


	16. Draco's Disquisition - (Part Two)

A/n: Sorry for the kinda big delay. I hope this chap (my longest so far) will make up for it…

*Mature themes ahead, not for kiddies...yatta, yatta, you know, the usual disclaimer. Enjoy :)

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen:  
**_**Draco's Disquisition**** \- (Part Two)**_

"You lurk about the darkest corners of my mind, you do."

The slight tingling in her legs was unfortunately not enough to distract her from Draco's useless monologue to come. Oh, couldn't the gods above just strike her stiff now and put a stopper in her misery? Antonia knew she was far from good and probably didn't deserve to be treated as a duchess, and she made mistakes just like the majority of the other people whom she attended her classes with and learnt from, but she certainly did not deserve...this.

"Do I? I'd hate to imagine just how pitch-black those corners are, considering the whole of your mind is pretty damn dark to begin with," she disclosed as she attempted to shift herself into a more relaxing pose, yet his sturdy grip on her waist prevented her from moving about too much.

"You're an observant little woman, aren't you? Think you're so astute with your precious Gryffindor valiance and wit that doesn't quite measure up to the Mudblood's yet still makes all the other girls in the damned school envious…" He tilted his head back and rolled his eyes in a pretentious and slothful manner. "As I've seen for myself so keenly over the years."

"Don't tell me that you are insinuating that you have spent a sickening majority of the last six years fanning over me and memorizing my every little, tiny, trifling movement?!" She ground that out with gut-wrenching awareness to the truth. And his curt nod proved furthermore that he was and always had been disgustingly obsessed with her.

Those long fingers pried the front of her dress to yank her towards him at a dizzying rate. Teeth grazed the shell of her eyes as a deep, throaty laughter carried on from the blond's throat over the next fifteen or so seconds.

"I was dreaming about you before I even laid my eyes on you in person, Potter. From the very tick Father told me who you were at what could have been a measly five or six fucking years of age I knew you intrigued me...and I didn't even need to hear the daunting coo of your voice or know the color of your eyes. I think I acquired my very first hard-on just weeks before starting classes here at this blithering, lousy excuse of a school at the acknowledgment that I'd be seeing and, dear Salazar!, actually _meeting_ you. You fascinated me more than you could ever comprehend, love. Don't think that through too concisely or you're sure to tremble in the late hours of every new night that arrives in your life."

'_Jesus Christ.'_

He chuckled at her silent response. "Merlin, I remember just how bloody nervous I was before heading out into Diagon Alley with father that first year. I had this stupidly irrational fear that I would run into you in the village, and I wasn't quite prepared for the _just barely_ practiced introduction I had set up for you. Oh, but when I did spot you that initial time in the book shop, did my jaw drop in all the bewilderment my eleven year old self could feasibly sustain. You stood out amongst all the other little shits in there with your down-to-your-arse red hair and smile that almost, focus on that _almost_, Potter, stole my breath away."

"How disturbingly romantic," she huffed right in time for a violent fist-throw across the face.

"Keep quiet you sad little wench! Interrupt me once more and I'll bite your bloody nipples straight off!"

"Fuck, calm down, Satan! Yes, yes, alright, I-I'll keep hushed."

"...So, I did my fair share of studying you for a desired amount of time before I made my audacious move to confront you. Damn me to hell I must have blushed for the first time in my entire life once you met my gaze with yours...frankly, I'd never seen anything so nauseatingly beautiful."

'_Would you like a biscuit, Shakespeare?'_ she 'tsk'ingly mused, daring not to speak it aloud at the plea of her bra-secured breasts.

"Hmph, I babbled on for some time and you made yourself obvious with your early-set hatred for me. Not a single utterance on my behalf appeased you any, and you thought _me_ the arrogant one? Baby, you hardly gave me a chance."

"That's because you, early enough, thank you very much, showed me just how conceited you-"

"I'm sorry, but did I ask for your objections? Make use of what meager intellect you do posses and at least try to identify my _rhetorical_ inquiries when addressed…"

Boy, did she want to beat him to a pulp right about now.

"I was," he stopped briefly to scoff, "literally hurt when you stormed away from me on our first little meeting and lost yourself in the crowd outdoors with that inbred oaf with a rat-infested, mold-clustered beard." He was most amused at her freshly thinned lip at his insult regarding her favorite, _hardly _hillbilly, hut-housed keeper of the keys. How supremely adorable she was. "But I didn't worry myself all that much just yet, because I knew I had a handy thirty days to better set myself up for our next encounter, which would be just before the sorting."

'_Remind me, won't you? I've forgotten it all,' _she thought to herself at what a joke this was that she had to sit through the biggest waste of time she'd ever endure. By Lord, was he going to recite every activity from the first day up to these current moments here? She reckoned she'd be a decaying corpse by the time he'd reach up to that point, but maybe that wouldn't be for the worst, for if she were dead, she would no longer be forced to sit up here in the school's highest hidden room with most of its oxygen capacity being of pure, undiluted dust. If not deceased, then she'd be lucky to get off with asthma by the end of his verbal novel.

"I was guaranteed that your hand would partner up with mine at my well-planned-out proposal on the first of September, but when you told me of how the closeted ginger was of more value to you I was more excruciatingly baffled than I will admit to you tonight, I'll tell you that much. Pfft, you think I wanted my only accomplices to be the two drooling, mentally diminished fools I for some unidentifiable reason still hang around today, to be my only sidekicks? I bloody fantasized that I'd have you to sit next to everyday, sorted into my House with green-laced robes that I didn't feel the urge to tear off until shortly after turning thirteen. I instinctively, wholeheartedly believed to the very make of my questionably existing soul that you'd shake my hand and, excuse this pathetic cliche, but, be mine. So, when I allowed what you turned out to be sink into my gullet, I fell for you harder than before. It appeared you were my enemy, as I was yours, and absolutely nothing would alter that, but as I'd come to understand about my fucked-up self, even at that age, I knew that your unattainability only attracted me to you even more."

'_Gross,'_ she mentally forced herself to state, in an attempt to rid what awe she was feeling at what he had to say about her. All the ironically poetic, magnificent innermost true colors he had been holding for her from their pubescent years… '_Sick bastard,'_ she tried again.

"Shockingly, I was surprised to find that picking on you and the two other fainthearted morons had conclusively turned out to be of more fun than I'd have figured much earlier. The animosity...was quite worth it to be honest. You loathed what I was, and you despised the unruly things I did, just as I did in turn for you. Oh, for a while there I believed that you truly did belong in the putrid House of Gryffindor, until just a month or two into our second year, that was, what with the whole parseltongue phase you had going for yourself while the reopening of the Chamber of Secrets was underway...then again, everyone thought you were a dirty, untrustworthy little Slytherin deep, deep down."

"Don't remind me…" she couldn't help but sigh dejectedly.

"However, you again proved us all wrong when you had your victory battle downstairs with that pesky basilisk..shame it didn't manage to devour you whole...and so again, you made yourself obnoxiously clear that you think so terribly of my House that there was no way in a frozen-over hell you would allow yourself to be a part of our team, because that would have, for some inexcusable reason, made you want to hang yourself by a noose outside your dorm's window."

Well, he wasn't entirely correct about that, the gruesome segment on suicide, that was, but she did hate herself a fellow Slytherin, or at least, the grand majority of them all, for the ones she met were all the same, cocky, stiffly-mannered tight-bums that no decent young lady such as herself could admire in the slightest. She didn't hate on entire groups or races, she just disapproved of anyone's arseholery was all (And obviously there were Gryffindors and even a couple Hufflepuffs whom she did not respect for that reasoning).

She withdrew from her momentary cognitive trance and became disgruntled at the sudden silence that had sunk in, but what jerked at her knickers even more was that her pompous foe seemed to be having himself a lovely time burying his head into the crook of her neck and threading his fingers through her hair in a frighteningly soft and gentle fashion.

Before she could cough out her concerns, he got back on track. "Do you remember the first day of our third year when you fainted under the influence of a dementor, and I harassed you for that once you made it into the Great Hall?"

He shut up to await her answer, but oh, _what if that was rhetorical?_ Antonia could not be too sure anymore, and she really could not bear another degrading insult from him tonight. She just may have had to use an Unforgivable Curse on him if he did.

"Answer me, Potter," he permitted, tightening his hold on her just a bit.

"Yes…" she whispered.

"Your face was drenched in tears, pet. Hell, were you a spooked little bint. I could see you shaking like you were undergoing a seizure from all the way across the room. I pitied you, I did, but how could I have possibly held down a good jeer to rouse up the mates? Call me cruel, but I loved seeing you all fired up, love. Mm, but when I did make my rather innocent remark, the Weasel was far quicker to retaliate than you...the goofy, inbred yokel...with his pathetic whimper telling me to piss off...a real bold comeback, that was…" he snickered. "Would've hexed him, certainly, had it not been the first blasted day into term. Couldn't risk losing House points already, you know. So, I saved the curses that I had resting at the tip of my tongue and instead spread word out that the bastardized ginger was, how do you say, stuck in the closet. It was a chilly move, I know, but it was extremely worth it-"

"You did _what_?!" she screeched.

"Settle down, baby. The rumors died down by the middle of October anyway...I suppose his closeness to Granger and you incited doubt to that notion. It was fun while it lasted though."

"I don't care how short-lived it was! How dare you go around the school telling _fibs_ that Ron is gay! I'd have never expected such—such _barbarity_ even from the likes of you!"

"Don't get yourself so worked up just yet, pet. I haven't even told you the worst of my previous years' shenanigans. Now, as you can probably relate on at least some level, early adolescence can stimulate feelings that deviate from simple annoyance, say, feelings of paltry arousal, if you will. I can admit that there were times in our third year when I'd want to rip off your training bra and fondle your barely developed tits like I was jacked-up on some hormonal brew. Shit, you drove me insane, Potter. Come to recollect, I think I was rubbing one out every bloody shower I took to mere fantasies of you. Shall I enlighten you as to what those fantasies were comprised of, sweetheart?"

She shook her head hurriedly in revulsion.

"Very well. I'll condone to that for now...Moving on, then. I meant it when I proposed dragging you off somewhere to scold you straight on who your betters are, and I was more enthusiastic than any other time in that year to go on down to the Shrieking Shack or wherever until-"

"Hermione socked you good and proper," Toni finished, hence, receiving a bop for herself across the jawline. She winced and chastised herself yet again for pushing his buttons.

"Thank you, _Potter_," he muttered. "With fourth year came deeper and more fervent understanding to my dreaded regards towards you. Don't get me wrong, Potter, I always have disliked your every trait, minus that bum and chest, of course, but I must say that the Fine Line theorem works phenomenally for our case, wouldn't you agree? With our nonstop debacles and zero amount of respect for one another, then of course there's the additional factor where I'd commit mayhem to pop that cherry of yours."

"S-stop it!" she stammered. "Please, Draco, enough."

Her eyelids were droopy with what felt like dumbbells and her stomach's contents were matted up as if tangled in a combination of negative emotions. She was weary and doggone sick of hearing anymore from him, and Merlin, he wasn't even halfway through.

"If you feel for me as you say you do, then why don't you leave me alone? You know they say that if you love something enough, you ought to let it go."

He considered her for a moment before chortling back, "Well, then I guess I don't love you enough."

"Oh, for crissakes, Malfoy, just tell me why you're working for Voldemort! I didn't come here to hear you spill your heart out to me. I want answers as to why you so gleefully went on ahead and got yourself that _thing _on your arm a-and I want to know...I just need to know why you would...do something like this...something so drastic."

A gelid, calloused hand held her cheek in a more mocking manner than warming, and he asserted, "I'm afraid I cannot reveal my reasons to you. Sure you've taken the Vow and all, but knowing you, I am certain that you'd be willing to sacrifice yourself just to save those who may be lined up for hell of a storm. In other words, I can't trust that you won't run your little mouth to someone if I were to tell you why I did what I did. You're not stubborn enough, pet. However, I will have you know that _this_," he rolled up his sleeve to enunciate his point, "in no way makes me swell up with pride, and occasionally, it burns like a mother. My motives at times lie in the hands of others, much to my disapproval, I might add. I did not have any say in this, pet. _This_, of nothing else, was the intention of someone of, eh, higher authority, and I cannot even tell you just how sick to my stomach that makes me...I rather prefer being in control of my every action, thanks."

"Well, why were you forced to get it?" she asked with authentic curiosity. Draco had intrigued her more tonight than on any other night or day before.

"That, I can't speak on. I've boasted my limitations on that terrain, love. Mm, but would you like to hear about the time I broke my index finger from a spill I took down the third set of moving stairs? You were on the flight above wearing this sultry slip with nothing more than a velvet scarf to accompany it. I couldn't remove my eyes from you. Thankfully, I wasn't the only one taking a peek; the clumsy oaf of a mate, Goyle, was on the step below me and he was making a rather lewd remark on that pretty little chest of yours when he so flimsily tripped over his own bloody feet so I could proceed to stumble over him from where he fumbled on the step below...crashed bloody hard. Had the _other_ git fallen onto me I'd have more than likely broken more than just this finger here. To my lucky stars he was not around at the moment...too busy in one of Snape's stores blowing Pucey or Higgs...or maybe it was the other way around; dunno, didn't care to ask…"

Blushing at the vulgarity, she held down her inquiry of whether or not Draco was rather crudely implying that Crabbe was gay and instead went for "And when did this happen? I don't recall wearing _sultry_ attire of any kind."

"Early in our fourth year, princess. You know, before you went ahead and rebelliously forged your name into that goblet. That little stunt impressed me quite a bit, Potter. I didn't think you'd had it in you to pull off something like that."

"Ugh," she groaned. "That wasn't me, you shithead. It was that death eater, um, Barty Crouch Junior, disguised as Professor Moody. Lord, just how uncultured are you?"

Really, just how many sharp whips could her left cheek bear in one night? Furthermore, how could she hold down every brewing retort when he was behaving as such a prat? She had to defend herself. There were limitations on just how obedient she would and could be for Malfoy, and those limitations would really be showing through if his attitude didn't swerve for the better.

"I'm sorry? What was your average score on our OWLs? Hm, I didn't think my overall array of Outstanding, Exceeding Expectations designated a need for fundamental improvement. I'm sure you just love to brag about your _acceptable_ results, aren't I right, Potter?"

"Oh, come on! I only got an A for Defense Against the Dark Arts! Be mindful of my abilities before you go on ahead and assume that I hit borderline average on every damn subject."

"My apologies, Potter. How could I have not automatically assumed that your results were actually comprised of a hefty display of Trolls...I just thought you were a tad sharper than that. I'll think before I jump ahead of myself like that in the future."

"You…" she stopped herself, knowing any disputes will only bid her harm. "I'll give you my bloody results if you promise to just quit with the mockery. My self esteem is low enough as it is."

This enlightened him. "Why aren't you feeling so prideful, Potter? This is unexpected coming from you."

Glaring, she scoffed, "I've never been one to take on pride. Just because I'm in the House that suggests such of me doesn't mean that I'm in love with myself. Lately, I've just been so depressed. I think it has to do with…" She went on no further, seeing no point to it. "Never mind. My state of mind is of no importance to you."

Never had Draco laid his hand on her cheek with such benevolence after hearing those words. Truly, he did want to know why she was so troubled with herself. "It is, Potter. Don't you remember the contents of our deal? You may vent your life's bullshit to me just as I'm doing to you. So do tell what your lachrymose affiliates with."

With a huff and brief stutter of reluctance, she answered, "Well, ever since your aunt _murdered_ my godfather, I've been having these thoughts of complete...worry. I just can't stop fretting over even the measliest of shit. I miss Sirius, I regret things, _stupid, _stupid things, I always want to be alone, I've, in a way, abandoned my best friends, I-I've been hitting the bottle frequently over the last five or so months...the list goes on."

"I'm here for you, you bint of a woman. Quit shunning yourself away from everything that bothers you, like me, for example, and just let it float into your life. Take some time to forget about everything and cloud your senses with blissful nothingness. You think too much, Potter. That's your problem. Huh, maybe it was a pretty fine idea after all bringing you up here. You could use some distraction, yeah?"

Amazingly, he was right. This whole time all she could think about was how much of a useless, righteous fucker he was, and not once tonight had her mind lingered on the subject of her deceased parents, Sirius, her drinking, introverted ways or even that blasted test she had that upcoming Monday in Snape's class. Now just because he was right, that didn't mean she wanted to confirm her agreement. He was still her enemy, as she was his. These communiques changed nothing of their history or present regards for one another. Just because this posed as just the distraction she needed, she still wasn't going to give the loathsome ferret the congratulations he thought he deserved.

"Whatever," she sighed. "Wrap up your novel now, won't you?"

"Oh, I'm afraid I'm not quite ready to wrap it up quite yet, love. You still have much to listen to tonight. Anyway, I didn't see you wear that skimpy little piece again, to my dissatisfaction. However, I knew I'd be having my fun nonetheless when you were announced to join the Triwizard Tournament. I had a jolly enough hoot harassing you on our every classroom or hallway meeting, even if those meetings were short. Watching you wince and gift me with a middle finger was always good enough for me to wanker off to by nightfall."

'_Perverted hog!' _

"I've told no one this, Potter, and you best keep this information to yourself, alright?"

'_Ya mean just like everything else you've told me?'_

"On the first task that Fall, you know, the one with the dragons and golden eggs or whatever, I literally sat on the edge of my seat, shaking like I had bloody frostbite or something, in fear that you'd get yourself killed by that monstrous Horntail. I decided to go against the rules and help you out a bit. I countered a few good luck hexes your way while you were diving behind some boulders for cover. I'd like to think that I was successful in helping you achieve that prize there in the end."

"You're wrong about that, Draco. I did what I did on my own; entirely without the _unwanted_ help of others."

"I beg to differ."

"Piss off."

"Enough. Let's ponder back to the time when I enlarged those already damn gargantuan bucked-molars of the Mudblood. I was about ready to blow your tits up to the size of fully grown pumpkins until Snape interrupted our gig. I was both taken aback and amused at the Professor's insinuation and not-so-discreet approval of my deed. Eh, I suppose the filth-blood's teeth weren't too much larger after all, were they? Hey, don't answer; that was rhetorical, peach. Speaking of Snape, I'll have you know a little something about that man." He pulled her against him so that she was pressed snugly against his chest while still sitting perched on his lap, her muscles sore and her legs tingling from the lack of proper circulation. "He's not as good a man as you may think."

'_Oh, really?'_ she thought with hearty sarcasm.

"I can't let you in on all the details, and I'm not technically permitted to tell you what I'm about to tell you, but considering our oath said and done, I believe I'll remain on safe terms, and out of wrath's way. You see, Snape has been asked to watch over me with annoyingly heavy surveillance this year, not that I agreed to this at any time, and let's just say that he knows the gist of what I'm up to."

"You mean he's aware of your disloyalties? I'll be damned. So, why does he have to watch over you?"

"That is where the cat has my tongue, Potter. I do not trust you with everything I have on my platter, nor do I many of my mates."

"Then why confide any of this nonsense to me? This is completely fruitless."

Taking her head in his hands and holding with delicacy her mother probably used when she was an infant, he admitted, "I can't tell my acquaintances of these... things I feel, Potter. You're a woman, and a real considerate one at that. Oh sure, I've tried before to bitch to Parkinson about my woes and hardships I've succumb to, but she was always too occupied in her simple, vapid thoughts and bloody pathetic sing-song pleas to have me eat her out, and the last time I did, well, I'll have you know that I've had tainted gravy that tasted better than-"

"NO! NO! I-I don't want to hear about that, Malfoy! Gross!" blurted the red-faced girl in his lap. This was getting to be far too much, and she thought the confessions of his pubescent jerk-offs while she was on his mind were over the top.

"Oh, yeah, okay. I've forgotten just how modest you are. I'm sure you feel this way when the Mudblood tells you of the Weasel's shriveled, ginger cock."

"What—fuck! Hermione and Ron are not _even_ an item, you exaggerating buffoon! _You're_ the one who needs to take some time to think shit through before you blurt out your theories that make no bloody sense whatsoever. I said I'd sit here and listen to what you had to say about why you've joined Voldemort, not—_not_ suffer through your childish overstatements on my friends."

"Very well," he mumbled with a shrug. "I'll cut out the malign on your rather _*cough*_ ineffectual mates and keep the focus on...you. I can't discuss our Lord with you any further; I've revealed enough as it is."

"Please do not tell me that you just referred to that shameful bastard in a way that I would refer to _my_ Lord and savior. _Let _me hear you praise that worthless pile of rubbish like he is Jesus Christ again and I'll rip your balls off. I'll swear on it."

"Take it easy there, angel," he chuckled, fueling her fire further. "If it irks you that much, then I won't say it. Tell me, Potter, does it make your very soul shudder in repugnance that I was your first kiss?"

"You weren't! Anthony Goldstein was!" she argued.

"Was he?" Draco inquired.

Antonia hated thinking back on it, she wholeheartedly did, but she just couldn't wash away that fleeting memory from thirteen months earlier.

…

_Reminisce: Fall of 1995 - Toni's First Kiss_

After what she'd seen that afternoon in one of the East corridors, she knew that the Inquisitorial Squad had taken their 'authority' too bloody far. It was absolutely inexcusable to pick on a small, feeble, socially inept First Year who didn't know how to defend himself! Her insides churned and her teeth clenched at the sight of Malfoy and his trustworthy sidekicks cackling their bums' off as they prodded at the shoulder-slackened boy with largely framed, crooked spectacles and a petite frame. He was in Hufflepuff, that factor within itself making him bait for a pack of rookie communists working under Madam Umbridge's order, or as Antonia preferred calling her, 'Highlady Cunt'.

Hermione, Ginny and Toni could only witness the cruel and saddening sight before their eyes as Draco, Crabbe and Goyle berated the youngster on his "LOOOSER!" status. Obviously the three young ladies yearned to put a stop to such bigotry, but they knew that attempting such a wild gesture could land them in detention for the rest of the year, and it was only mid-November.

"Just look at them!" Toni growled, her index finger pointing straight at the incident just down the hall. "Torturing a bloody _first year_ like that! Who in Godric's name do they think they are?"

"Gods, it would seem," Ginny offered, a light frown on her face as she held three textbooks against her chest.

"It's high time someone teaches them a lesson!" the auburn girl declared, her very soul having reeked of seething rage, and much more of it than either girl beside her. "I don't care how much trouble I get into! I cannot allow this to continue!"

She took one long stride towards the situation, only to be yanked back by the loose knitting of her slightly oversized sweater.

"You need to stay out of this," Hermione warned. "You don't want to have your other hand marred by Umbridge, do you?"

"I'll accept wholeheartedly if it'll put a cork in this nonsense!" she disputed, only to have both mate's drag her along the corridor and end up elsewhere, as if they both figured it wise to just play it safe when a vulnerable eleven year old was in danger. Really, she appreciated their concern for her sake and all, but she had to do what was right, even if it would land her alone with the Highlady again, along with those scarring sessions and the vows not to lie. And in Toni's opinion, Granger needed to step up her game, for she was a _prefect_ and she was allowing this to slide!

On the evening of the harassment targeted towards the First Year, Antonia mustered up all of the Gryff valor she had in her and trudged for the dungeons. She was going to have a little chat with the austerely natured Squad, paying no mind to what shit it could land her in later, nor did she care how deep it would be. She did not tell any of her friends where she was going after she abruptly left dinner that night. She had to do this. Justice needed to be served. She was doing this for the abuse the little Hufflepuff had to endure.

She stood before the stone walling that hid the interior of the Slytherins' common room. Thinking back to her second year when she was Pansy Parkinson and Ron was Crabbe after having drunken the polyjuice potion, she recalled Draco using the word 'pureblood' to open up the barriers. In general, the passwords would change every semester, or at least this was the regulation for her own House, but she had to give it a shot now, or risk waiting for some Slytherin tightrear to perhaps let her in, not that she guessed they would have willingly done so anyways.

"Uh...pureblood?" she mumbled to the dark and mossy wall before her, availing none. _'Damn!'_

Huffing shakily, she tried another word, or rather, set of words.

"Salazar?"

The wall remained still.

"Slither? Snakes? Hiss?"

Natta.

"Um, wealth? Cunning? Ambition? Power? Mudblood?" She disliked that last word in particular. "Predominance? Pride? Cleverness?"

_'Lord, this is going to take me all night!'_

"Volde-"

"Potter?"

She spun around in horror to face a tall and lanky Slytherin, Theodore Nott. He did not look angered, just muddled at her presence. She thanked the saints above that it was not Snape or Umbridge to face her.

"Theodore, I need to get in there so I can discuss something of high importance over with Draco," she clarified, figuring honesty to be the most suitable approach. Just maybe he would help her out too. Well, he didn't hate to disappoint.

With a close-to condescending mien, he replied, "I'm afraid I cannot let you in. Having someone from a House other than Slytherin feast their eyes on what beholds our common room is strictly against policy."

"I am well aware of that, _Teddy_," she bit out, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "But my regards are dire and require the conversing of Malfoy in particular. Could you at least fetch him for me?"

Sighing, the taller boy removed his glasses and rubbed the frames with his robe's sleeve. "I suppose. You wait over there, so as to not hear our password."

Nodding, she walked about ten feet out and awaited the return of a boy who deserved a reward for the 'Biggest, Rudest, Arsehole of the Year'. Several minutes ticked on before the wall opened back up. Draco was not in sight, but Theodore stood at the passage and waved for her to come over. Warily, she met up with him.

"He insists upon seeing you. He wants to meet you in the I.S.'s office."

"I.S.'s office?" she questioned with a quirked brow.

"Yes, the Inquisitorial Squad has their own working space, similar to what the prefects and Head students get. He requested that you come in here alone, meaning you don't have the Weasel or Mudblood glued to you...those were his exact words, by the way..."

"Whatever."

She couldn't help but scan over the common room as she followed the semi gawky bloke in front of her. All around her were the darkest and most bitter students of the school. The room itself was darkened to what could almost be classified as pitch black with the exception of a few lit and floating candles. The students themselves were investing themselves in activities that made the witch shudder. Unlike her own common room where students would gather around for snacks, socializing, studying and maybe a little snogging in the corners, this particular vicinity was comprised of heavy and thick clouds of smoke wafting around in the air, it having originated from pipes and cigars being smoked by the students. In the corners were not couple's exchanging cutesy pecks or smooches while embracing or holding hands, but rather more risque girls giving their boyfriends head, one of whom Antonia recognized to be Tracy Davis with a fellow she did not know. Bottles, flasks and bowls of many differing brands of alcohol were available on every table and even a few footrests. The atmosphere was one of dread and eeriness to the more prude Gryffindor, but she soldiered on nonetheless.

With the escalation of a five-step, lumpy concrete stairway led to a door with a doorknob in the form of a snake's head. Nott gave three clear and keen knocks before the door swung open. There, at the threshold beholding a dimly lit office was Highlady C's most favorable proxy with his black slacks, custom-made button-up shirt and smirk of the Devil.

His piercing, cold gray eyes raked over the redhead with crossed arms and a disturbed expression splattered on her face as she stood next to the more outcasted Slytherin. She glared daggers up at him from her stance on the third step as a far too pleased look overcame him.

"Later, Nott," he said, as if giving him permission to leave. Oh, so did he think he had rule over his own House too? It seemed as if Draco was more of a jackass than Toni presumed, and that was saying a ton.

"Potter, get in here," he ordered as he drilled his sight into various areas of the other adolescent's body, doing phenomenal in making her cringe.

"Your common room's a joke," she said as she crossed over into the even gloomier space that was supposed to represent an office.

"Oh? And what exactly is so funny about it?" he challenged in a quick and slightly irritated grumble. Of course he took pride in his House's personal quarters, so he saw nothing wrong at all with the conditions of the area. If anything, the lewd and outrageously forbidden activities made him satisfied, like the people they knew and the things they invested themselves in were akin to extra family members and far from dysfunctional in his perspective.

"Well, for one thing, I could only inhale smoke as I entered, for any source of clean oxygen just seems to be absent. I think there's an orgy going on currently, and..." She stopped when she sought the fruitlessness in that issue while she had another more crucial one to direct. "Forget it. I just needed to let you know that you have no place in bullying others, especially defenseless first years!"

"Is that what you think?" he snapped, as he lazily fell back into his armchair at a desk, the usually cocky simper worn like an overly worn pair of underwear, just irksome and nasty.

"It's what I know, Malfoy. Not that I'm the slightest bit shocked at this behavior from you, knowing you, but you're a prefect for crying out loud! Just what the hell do you think you're doing chasing around those who don't measure up to what 'greatness' you think you hold? You need to start changing your ways for the better before I hex you into landing my arse into expulsion!"

"Think yourself a threat, do you, Potter?" he snickered as he rose from his seat that was a short ways across the room. She stiffened little as he stalked into her personal bubble, getting close enough to breath on her cheek. "It amazes me that you _still!_ remain unaware to the damage you are throwing yourself into. What with myself holding a position that can not only deplete as many House points as I'd like from you, but also can inform Madam Umbridge of your nose being where it doesn't belong..." He gripped her right wrist and roughly slid the cuff halfway up her arm before bringing her arm between them. He chuckled as he read over the set of lines inscribed into her right hand, still red and in the form of vaguely faded scars from the unforgettable detention with The Pink Bitch.

"_I must not tell lies_...ironic, you seem to be doing that right now."

"Cram it, you lousy ferret! You know you're abusing your status, Malfoy! I demand that you grow the fuck up and do your duties that you've so oddly been designated as you are supposed to! I don't ever want to see you or any of your pathetic, obtuse cronies picking on anyone again!"

In a blinding flash, her back hit the rugged cement wall as long fingers pried themselves to her upper arms. A gush of wind was promptly knocked out of her at the severity as well as rapidity of the motion.

"Did it hurt when she did _that_ to you?" he taunted as she struggled against him. "Did it sting like a motherfucking blade dragging along your skin? Mm?"

"Stop it!"

"I'd wager you were crying as she did it, weren't you? It took everything you had in you to keep from wailing out in misery."

His cruel comments made her want to claw his smug face to shreds. Keeping his clutch on her scarred hand, he squeezed her further up against the walling so as to prevent her from trying cutely to fought him off.

"Would you like me to kiss it better, sweetheart?" he patronized in that sickening tone of his.

"Bastard."

He firmly held her right hand in his own as he brought it up to his lips and began to smother his mouth all over the words engraved into her skin.

"What the fuck do you think you're-"

"You want me to clean up my act, Potter? Well, I'm going to need something in return from you if that is going to happen."

A wave of paranoia hit her system hard. "...Name your price, then."

His lips stretched out to show a row of pearly, mildly crooked teeth for her to gawk at as he put forth his standards.

"You let me kiss you."

"Bugger off."

"If you disagree with my conditions then you can forget any good vibes you _could_ see from me."

Quivering, she stared at his mouth, in hopes that it hadn't been anywhere too disgusting, and inadvertently winced when he wet his lips in one quick flicker of his tongue. She had to think about the others. That little First Year, all the Hufflepuffs and others who Malfoy didn't see fit to go without a roughhousing.

"Just a peck then...and make it quick," she reluctantly finalized.

"I think you're going to let me use my tongue if you want this whole thing to work out."

"Wha—dammit, no!"

"What's that I hear? Is that my mates coming to escort you out of here?"

"UGH!" she groaned. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "Just do it."

And he willingly did so. For the next four minutes her mouth was mauled by foreign lips and assaulted with a tongue that tasted of sour green apples and firewhiskey. She whimpered and kept her eyes sealed tight enough to strain her temples for the whole provocative duration. She had never been kissed, especially like that. All she wanted was to travel out of her body as one of her worst enemy's shoved his tongue towards the back of her mouth and damn nearly made her gag at the ridiculous and brash force he was using. Her hips and lower back were surely bruised by the time he was through with her. His carnal inflictions made her want to boil her mouth and body from his touch and hide underneath her bed sheets for weeks while Bono could console her through her walkman and headphones.

She was sure that a trail of drool hung from their lips as he parted from her.

Her eyes still closed from the view, she mustered, "So, we have a deal then?"

"Pfft," he scoffed darkly. "I think not."

Her eyes went wide in bewilderment. "But! I just let you french me, you goddamn git!"

"You didn't seem to enjoy it, pet. Frankly, I felt like I was intruding or something."

"No! We agreed to the terms!" she retorted, as he remained in his place.

"We never shook on it, did we?"

"GOOD CHRIST!"

"Mm, alright, maybe I can still accommodate to your little complaint, Potter."

"I don't even want to hear it!"

"You sure?"

"ARSEWIPE!"

"Silence, baby. Now, I can assure you _my_ improvement in the treatment of others, but not necessarily my recruits, meaning _I_ can behave with the same kind of sincerity you and your little friends stink of if you allow me one last thing."

She didn't answer, but merely glared back at him, awaiting his negotiation.

"You let me kiss you...elsewhere."

"Elsewh-" She blushed and whipped him across the face. "You're sick."

"I can guarantee your satisfaction, you know."

That wink killed any possibility of restoring humanity and security on Hogwarts grounds. She brushed past him and exited the office with a hearty slam of his door.

…

"Oh hell," Toni groaned. Her legs were buzzing like mad in this increasingly uncomfortable position in his lap and she was growing wearier and wearier by the tick. Was he just about through? Fine, she got it. He was addicted to her. So horribly, morbidly fascinated by her entire being.

"...I kissed Goldstein the following month," she confessed.

"Right, just as I presumed. Well, I suppose fifth year was tied up with…" His expression went grim, "your fidelity that landed Father in Azkaban, you traitorous harlot."

"I think I've had enough for tonight, Malfoy," she snapped while attempting to rise from his lap. She moved with a slug's grace due to the numbness ringing through her lower limbs. It was nearly brutal.

"There's this absurd saying, Antonia," he spoke up, pummeling her senses. He had never called her by her first name before, as far as she could remember. "I've already mentioned the 'fine line' we share, but my hatred for you shan't be tamed, eradicated or put under control, when this - this…" He seemed to lose himself in reverie. "This burdensome love I feel for you measures up to my powerful dislike for what you are." He seemed content with his words. "One cannot exist without the other, you know. I hate you with a burning passion. Simultaneously, I love you; I just don't like you."

That tore it, the dying patience she did have for him. He thought himself a king, did he? Trying so pitifully hard to win her over; to possess her like she was the most sublime living organism on the planet. Well, two had the right to compete for the throne in her eyes. She nodded submissively to his wasteful statement as she reached into her jacket's left pocket to dig out her mace. In seconds his eyes would be reeking of peppermint even more profusely than his coat that she still had tucked underneath her bed.

Draco seemed to be a light ways ahead of her, for he swiped her wrist away from its sneaky dip into her pocket and plunged his own hand into there. Her wand was of no surprise but he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the small navy blue canister that rested in his hand along with the 10 inch willow.

"The fuck is this thing?" he spat incredulously.

Her now cold fingers laced around his own as she tried to take back what was hers.

"It's mace, you bloody drat of a man! It's used in the Muggle World for self defense! We use it against arseholes like you! Pieces of shit who think they have _dominance_ over everything! Now hand it over so I can squirt a peppery mist of vengeance into your eyes!"

The next thing she was aware of were her lips being corybanticly devoured by an enmity that must have been positively starving for affection. Never had her mouth been collided with something with such rapidity, with such a haul. Her mind might as well have exploded because her every thought and sober rationality was not present in this suspenseful course of action taken.

She yipped and fought to pry the long and bony fingers that fastened themselves through her loose roots, holding the back of her skull like his life depended on it, from their place. She squirmed and pounded on his sides with all of her might to only result in throaty groans of protest on his part, as well as the slip of his lager-coated tongue into her mouth. Defensively, she bit down onto the tip of his tongue, availing to get him to break the kiss with a snarl of great distaste.

He continued on with his assault by reeling her and locking his arms around her upper back, not quite _effortlessly_ managing to hold the girl down in his lap but managing nevertheless. He nudged her unzipped jacket down her shoulder with his pointed nose and proceeded to plant his ravenous lips along her neckline, effectively getting her to moan whether she would ever admit to it or not. When his teeth impaled a bare spot on her shoulder she cried out, still battling against him uselessly, her efforts only eliciting him further.

She nearly jumped straight out of the chair once a freezing hand found its way into the front of her dress and burrowed underneath a lacy cup to rest on her soft breast. Ongoingly, she implored him to stop as he slid his other free hand down into the soft fabric of her panties to grip a firm and beautifully risen buttock.

"F-find it in yourself to be something more than what you've just told me, Draco," she wheezed out as tears stung her eyes and trailed down her face. "Please don't do this."

He halted in his doings and shoved her off of him to hit the floor with a nasty thud. He came to his feet and glared down at her with a look that she was sure not even the Dark Lord was capable of creating.

"Until next week, baby," he assured her before strutting off, blue-balled and more aroused than he'd ever been in his sixteen years. In one final sigh of fury, he made his depart for the evening, but not before informing her that he'd like his coat back.


	17. Allegations

a/n: Yes, it's been _a while_...but here it is :) Thanks bunches to those of you reviewing and sticking with the story. Your ongoing support is my motivation.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen  
_Allegations_**

The cheerful words of Neville Longbottom went straight through the ears of Antonia. How could she look forward to some measly Christmas party when she had no more Saturday nights to cherish throughout the remainder of that year, and hell, probably onto the next unless she were somehow lucky enough to lose Draco's interest, and from what eulogy she'd heard of him a couple of nights before, that was not likely to happen.

Of all of the bad people she knew, why did Draco have to be the one who'd fallen, or no, plummeted head over heels for her? With thorough self-examination, she could confirm that there was definitely nothing about her that a young man of _his_ breed should have even thought adequate, except maybe, as he'd said, her "pert arse" or "beautifully risen rack". She could understand that he was a needy pervert, but not in a million years could she rationalize his _love_ for her.

She was left to ponder '_Is he simply confusing love with obsession?'_

This would have eased her at least, if it were indeed true, that is. If not, then all she could do was try to accept it. She could also try listening to her boyfriend for once.

"I'm going to be serving drinks, you know," Neville said as she sat lazily aside him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Slughorn told me that it was alright just so long as I don't consume any alcohol for myself, but then he chuckled and whispered that I just need to make sure that no teachers are watching if I do take a swig or twenty for myself," he tittered.

"It sounds to me like he's given you permission to booze yourself, then," Toni said as she planted a kiss on his cheek that was so very divergent from Draco's.

"Yes, sneakily, it seems," he replied.

Neville was the most by far one of the most gentle of men. He never let his hands wander about the limber body of his girlfriend nor did he harass, mock or critique the things she did or how she did them. He had yet to pressure her into doing anything that may have made her uncomfortable and he held her hand with the delicacy of a mother for her newborn infant. He'd buy her candy and jewelry from the village at random times and he'd leave an open ear for her at his availability.

He did all this, and yet, she couldn't summon any attraction for him, let alone sexual. While he made for a superb friend, she couldn't imagine ever making love with him, though she found no need to separate from him, for both he and her seemed fine and dandy with their so far abstinent terms.

There was Slughorn's Christmas party to focus on, it being just eleven days away. Toni had to dig around in her closet for something new and fresh to wear, perhaps one of the formal dresses she'd bought before school had started.

Ever since her last encounter with Draco several night's earlier, she had been shunning herself away from her friends more than ever before. With every bump in the hallway's passersby, to any eye contact with any male teacher or student she had felt uneasy and timid. He'd really come close to breaking her on that seventh floor's secret room this time, and she would most definitely be skipping their next due meet the following weekend had Draco not been so persistently threatening. She'd completely block-out the heavy stares he'd be giving her during potions and during their meal times in the Great Hall. She chose not to hate him or feel anything for him at all because doing so would just make this whole situation worse. A distraction was in order. She would go out to the village sometime after school during the week, alone, so she could really take some time to collect her thoughts and reorganize her cluttered mind.

That Tuesday following that weekend's incident, she quietly ventured out to Hogsmeade, careful to go unseen by any of her mates or even her boyfriend. She spent a good, long while in Gladrags Wizardwear in search for as perfect a gown as she could come across to don at Slughorn's upcoming party on the 24th. She selected a pure violet piece that ran down to her ankles with a long slit going down the right side where her thigh began, all the way down to the floor. She would likely wear her tallest heels along with the garment.

After departing Gladrags, she stopped for a drink in Aberforth's pub. It had been what she'd considered too long since her last meet with the old bartender. She chuckled to see that he was eyeing her quite carefully when he caught her entering, probably to make sure she didn't have that blasted stereo with her this time, for he didn't quite take much of a liking to the blaring muggle device.

"I'm wearing this to the party. Isn't it lovely?" she asked Ab as his cataracted eyes settled on the glistening dress she held up above the counter.

"Ah, tis exquisite, indeed, malady."

"It came to nearly twenty-two galleons, can you believe that?" she scoffed. "Mm, but I guess it was worth every sickel."

"It's grand to see that ye know how to invest yer money properly; only get what you think ye really could use," he complied.

"Oh yes. I do hope that my date will adore what he's yet to see. It'd be a blessing to have _him_ feast his eyes on me rather than-"

"Anton-ya? Is that you?"

Despite her slight buzz, she deciphered that voice, and could anytime, anywhere. She nervously stiffened as she spun around in her stool to see the reverent half-giant whom she had neglected to speak to in quite some time; a poor, excuseless two months to be exact. His eyes locked with hers, incredulity evident in his gaze. She gifted him with a sheepish wave of the hand and smile.

"O-Oh, um, hullo, Hagrid," she forced out.

She gulped awkwardly as he stepped closer to her from across the bar with crossed arms and a countenance of disappointment. There were a number of reasons why he had the right to be upset with her, like why she had been consuming alcohol underage and why she hadn't been visiting him _not even_ every blue moon for example.

"What'er ya doin' in 'ere? An' why haven't ya been swinging by me hut since last September?" he glumly inquired as he rested a meaty hand on her shoulder. She was benight as to what she could possibly excuse.

"W-well…"

"Antonia here has been a frequent customer of mine for the last several months, Rubeus," the bartender cut in. "A fine young lady, she is."

"An' do ya know she's jus' sixteen, Ab? _Underage_, if we're speakin' technical," the sizable keeper of the keys pointed out, concern for the girl's sake etched in his tone.

"...Yeah," Ab began with a shrug. "Though _close enough_ to the consent, ain't she? Besides, she's a paying customer, and as my policy dictates, a _paying_ customer is a _welcome_ customer."

Both Antonia and Ab could easily infer Hagrid's frustration. Of course he was not happy to see a young woman so close to him drinking away in a shoddy little pub like this. And what _was_ with all the missed visits?

"Anton-ya, I think we got some discussin' to do. Why don't ya come back to me hut and I'll put on some tea," he advised.

"Listen, Hagrid, I've just come here for a drink is all. And the reason I haven't been seeing you lately is because um, I've been swamped with so much else...it's...just hard, you know."

He didn't appear to be the least bit convinced by her reasoning. "Come along, dear. Fang's been missin' ya too."

He headed for the exit, and with a sigh, Toni placed two galleons on the counter, told Ab to keep the change and met up with the towering wizard.

…

The hut's hearth was flickering with a lively fire that warmed the vicinity up nicely. Water was boiling in the cauldron as Hagrid fished around in his cupboards for Toni's favorite chamomile. Fang had seemed to truly miss the girl judging his vitality in her lap as she rested on his beaten-up couch. The hound's saliva-soaked tongue swept at her cheek to chide her very overdue visit.

"So, Ton-ya...tell me what seems tuh be the matter?" Hagrid asked as he placed two oversized mugs on his wooden table. She rubbed away at her arm, unsure of how to explain herself. She certainly couldn't tell him about Draco and all that he'd done and said to her, unless she wanted to subsequently meet her death, that was. The lofty wizard already knew that she had been drastically troubled by her godfather's murder, just as a jumble of others had been, excluding most of the Slytherins.

"...I'm just...erm, things haven't been so simple is all."

"Mm? Ya mean the school work alone or somethin' more?" he pressed on.

Was it time to exaggerate? Feed him some nonsense? Just normal complaints that would come out of a normal sixteen year old witch?

She'd have to give him something, but she had nothing.

"Ton-ya, are you happy?"

That question struck her with more force than what would be expected. She hardly noticed the steaming cup of tea that was suddenly before her. Why had such a straight-forward, simple question startled her as it did? Abruptly, she stood, pacing about the free spaces that his cramped and messy hut provided, her mind swarming with perplexity and apprehension.

Rubbing vigorously at her sleeved arms, she stammered "I've something out of my...comfort zone that I need to handle. I've much on my plate...much more stress than I can properly handle."

"Ah, I see. Listen, Ton-ya, I would prefer you not to worry about You-Know-Who for the time bein'. You'd be best off just focusin' on your academics and friends. Now I understand that dangers and threats could be layin' ahead, but-"

"I'm not referring to Voldemort," she cut in. "Someone else is pestering me. A student."

Concern-wracked, he asked "This student you're talkin' 'bout wouldn't happen to be Mr. Malfoy, now, would it?"

"Well," she nervously chuckled. "How'd ya guess?"

"Jus' how much trouble's he given ya? Shall I inform Dumbledore or have ya already?"

"Oh, well, it's just the usual, Hagrid. Nothing I can't deal with...Just the inevitable quarreling like in previous years...though they are more, erm, advanced now...as we've gotten older, I suppose. But please, don't worry about me. I'm okay. I'm dating Neville, Ron's been seeing a fellow Gryffindor, Lavender Brown, and Hermione, well, some Quidditch player fancies her, but she doesn't feel the same way."

"Mm, yeah, I've heard. They've told me, just recently, in fact, on their last stop down here."

"Oh...um, do they mention me...at all? During their visits?"

"They've both been hintin' at yer solemnity, dear. They're a tad perturbed is all at yer distancin' and whatnot. They, as well as meself, understand the pain you've been goin' through since Sirius' death, but it seems ter them you have completely strayed off...kind of like Fang does when he's got an upset stomach, just goes off in the corner for a while wantin' nothin' ter do with me."

As much as she didn't want to compare herself to an ill hound dog, she had to come to his terms and consider how right he was. Keeping away from her friends certainly wasn't going to fix anything. She was only going to worsen what already dark emotions she'd let brew within the whole of her being for so, so long.

Tears now brimming her eyes, she looked up to the very man who'd introduced her to this world and pleaded for the assistance she obviously needed.

"Tell me what to do, Hagrid. I'm a mess. I-I've been consuming copious amounts of alcohol since the start of the school year. I haven't had a straight thought in - Lord, I can't even remember. My mind is so, so boggled...I'm depressed, anxious and lost. Damn it, sir, I've never been so...so unhappy."

With all the sympathy he could regard her with, that being a lot, he patted her back while shaking his head at the same time.

"What're ye doin' callin' me 'sir'? An' here I thought ya were just havin' a bit too much homework or sumtin. Huh, ye want ter know what I think ye should do then...well, how 'bout ye try lettin' things swing as they used ta. Reconcile with yer mates, remember ta smile, don't fret over the little matters that life'll bring ye an' talk ter me n' Dumbledore. Don't be shyin' away no more. Yer only bound deepen yer woes if ye keep sulkin' an' shunnin' yer pals, includin' meself."

She allowed herself a smile, a forced smile that would rouse what comfort she could have really used at that moment. Within ticks, she felt rejuvenated at his words, and at how easily she could turn her situation around for the better. Happiness laid in one's own hands and was a choice she could make at any time. All this time, had she been deliberately moody while she could have chosen to think more brightly? Was it all really _that_ simple?

"An' stop wit the drinkin'. Don't wanna drown out what brilliant brain cells ye got in that noggin' of yours."

Chuckling, she rose to embrace as much of him as she could, considering the semi enormity that he was, whereas she was significantly slimmer and only stood below his breast bone. As what few tears she shed began to dry on her cheeks, she warmly thanked him.

"I love you, Hagrid," she mumbled into his wool vest, taking in the scent of burning wood, subtle elderberries and pine.

"Love ye too, Ton-ya."

* * *

The recommended reconciliation started that Thursday when Antonia took Ron and Hermione out to The Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer. She didn't miss their perplexed expressions at her proposal, since that had sort of been her first proposal that year.

"You're in high spirits this afternoon," Ron noted as they entered the pub. Antonia strode ahead of them, picking out a booth for the three of them out in the far right corner of the tavern.

"Severus gave me an adequate grade on my essay," she chimed as the three took their seat.

"That's a first. You do anything differently?" Ron asked.

"Mm, not exactly...maybe I idealized Verdimillious origins to his liking. Or perhaps he was just in a decent mood."

Ron scoffed while Hermione's eyes traveled around, as if seeking someone. "Since when is the man ever in a _decent_ mood. He always looks as if someone kicks him in the balls right before he enters the classroom...and what is it with your habit of calling our teachers by their first names? Ha, been doing that since our second year, it feels like."

"Oh...well, I don't know. Personally, I've always thought that calling anyone, no matter their status, by their surname is a tad strange and unnecessary. What's the deal with that, anyway? It seems to me that calling a person by their first name would deem them more respect than by their last, wouldn't you agree?"

Quirking an eyebrow, he replied "I've, eh, never thought into it that deeply.."

"They're snogging," Hermione cut in, her gaze shifted towards the other end of the pub. "Ginny and Dean. Do you two think they've made up?"

"...I would imagine so." Toni shrugged as Ron put on an expression of contort. He'd heard the rumors of how Dean wasn't the gentleman he outwardly appeared to be, and the mere inkling of that bloke hurting his younger sister made his blood boil.

"Thomas ought to be treating my sister with respect, and _plenty_ of it, lest he wants to find himself hexed into madness, the sodding bloke," Ron grumbled, warily eyeing the table where his younger sibling and her boyfriend sat.

"Calm yourself, Ronald. There's no need to be making threats now. Ginny is quite educated enough to know not to let herself be slapped around by some neanderthal. If Dean was abusing her, she'd surely forget about him and move on," Toni assured her irritated friend. Their drinks had been served not thirty seconds before Professor Slughorn came around, having spotted his top student.

"Why, hello, Miss Potter. How are you doing this afternoon?" the humble older man piped in.

Standing to properly greet him with a handshake and her best not-entirely-genuine smile, she said "I'm doing lovely, sir, thank you."

"Ah, that's splendid, dear...he, he, The Three Broomsticks and I go back farther than I care to admit," he chuckled, while clumsily spilling some of his fire whiskey. The coot was already quite tipsy and it wasn't even four o'clock in the afternoon yet.

"You will be attending my supper party on the 23rd, won't you, Miss Potter?" he queried looking into her eyes half-liddedly, as if to enunciate the patent buzz he had going on.

"Mmhmm, yes, sir. Neville Longbottom will be courting me that evening."

"Ah, Longbottom, a charming fellow that one...excellent, then. Now, Miss Granger, you will be present as well, yes?"

She nodded back. Toni knew that Hermione wasn't boldly up for it, considering her lack of a date, and Godric knew she wouldn't be going along with Cormac...the sleazeball.

"...Tis good to see you all. Later, then," he chirped before thankfully stumbling off on his way.

"He sure as hell enjoys himself a drink. I'm a tad shocked he doesn't keep a flask on him around the clock…" Ron input as the three watched their professor trip and spill more of his drink around the pub.

"At least he's an _amiable_ drunkard," said Toni, thinking back on how mean her uncle could get when hammered enough.

…

At quarter to five the trio waltzed out of the pub tracking their footprints in the freshly fallen snow. Their arms were slung around their shoulders as they took their time meandering the path that led up to the castle a good distance away.

A sudden, piercing scream shot through the air, leaving an echo in its place. Bewildered, the group stared ahead at whom they could recognize to be a seventh year girl, Katie Bell, roughly fifteen feet up from the ground, her arms spread out as she levitated, and her mouth and eyes open frighteningly wide. They could merely stand in their place, frozen in terror, as her body whipped back and forth several times before crashing into the ground as if slung downwards by an invisible force.

"I-I told her not to touch it," the nearby girl shakily informed, as the three others neared the victimized girl and the case that formerly held the large ornamented turquoise necklace that laid next to it.

"Don't come any closer!" came Hagrid's voice. "Stay back, all of ya." He lumbered past them to take the unconscious Gryffindor in his arms.

While the three were at loss for words, Hagrid advised them to hurry back up to the castle and fetch Minerva. Antonia suppressed a lamenting sigh as she followed Hagrid and her friends, taken aback at how her hope for a little afternoon joy had resulted in this.

…

Minerva turned her scowl to the three Gryffindors who stood before her, their faces pale and expressions something on the brink of grim, though not nearly as her own.

"Why is it when something happens, it is _always_ you three?" she asked, her tone ridden with frustration.

"Believe me, professor, I've been asking myself that same question for the past six years," Ron replied, just as their all-time favorite teacher was at the entrance.

"Oh, Severus! Come over quickly," Minerva called out to him.

Antonia, Hermione and Ron all swallowed their rising moans as the DADA teacher came into view, as usual wearing an inhumanly stern expression. Only shooting them a quick glance, he immediately got to work after going over the incident with Minerva. At his silent incantation, the cursed necklace rose to float in midair. It was almost as beautiful as it was deathly.

"What do you think?" Minerva asked, her gaze cast over the slowly rotating jewelry just as carefully as the other professor's.

"I think Miss Bell is incredibly fortunate to be alive," he deadpanned.

"She was cursed," spoke Toni. "I know Katie well enough to know that she wouldn't hurt a fly. If she was delivering that to Dumbledore, she _must_ have been possessed."

"Yes, she was cursed," Minerva replied without turning her back.

Contemplatively, she shivered in her stance, knowing all too well just who'd done such an inexcusable deed, and to such an innocent, kind girl. She thought over what Draco had told her of that Unbreakable Vow they'd undergone, and how her speaking out on his guilty actions potentially dug her a premature grave.

"It was Draco," she cut in before she could think to stop herself. Mistake or not, she felt relief in confessing. The air seemed to drop roughly ten degrees, to Toni anyway, as both professors faced her, notably irritated.

"That is a _very_ serious accusation, Miss Potter," informed Minerva stiffly, to Severus' vocal agreement of "Indeed. Your evidence?"

"Um…" Sweat rolled down her forehead as apprehension hit her system with an appalling blow. She gulped and ignored her pounding heartbeat that began to ring in her ears as she sheepishly debated "I just know it was him."

"You just...know," Snape scoffed. Her eyes slipped downwards as he continued on, each word seeping with vitriol. "Once again, you astonish me with your gift, Potter, a gift only mortals can dream of possessing. How _grand_ it must be...to be the chosen one."

"What?" she whispered, hurt at his words. Being the "chosen one" was, and had always been _anything_ but grand. Meeting her eyes with his, she mustered "You haven't an idea just how wrong you are about that, professor."

The older Slytherin's lip quivered, as if readying a comeback, until Minerva interjected "I suggest you go back to your dormitories. All of you."

The abashed, fuming redhead was the first to leave. The other two quickly caught up and were there at either side to offer her their open ears, as Antonia so hoped.

"The scumbag! I curse what tainted womb allowed that thing to grow and fester into what despicable incarnation it is now! Lord, the nerve of that man! Dare he _assume_ I'm living in paradise? Does he truly believe I think myself highly, like a princess? Pfft, I'll leave that to the Malfoys. Just what the hell was that loathsome, greasy-haired turd put through? Surely _something_ in his past made him this indignant."

"Forget him. The loser sees most beneath him anyway," Ron said while patting her back in a cordial manner. "So, Malfoy's our prime suspect then, yeah?" he surmised.

"He's my _only_ suspect," Toni replied positively.

"We can't be too certain yet, Antonia," Hermione advised.

"Just puzzle it all together, you two, everything he's done this year, that being, not enough. Haven't you noticed? He's been more shady than ever before! Big red flag there considering just who we're talking about. He's been quite collected and kept to himself, wouldn't ya agree? He's in no way acting normally, you know, like how he's behaved in earlier years."

"Well, maybe he's finally growing up," Hermione suggested, to receive to hearty scoffs from either party.

"Let's not forget what we saw him do in Borgin and Burkes. Need I say much more?" Toni articulated. "I don't care what that sullen git thinks. I know that Draco is behind Katie's attack…" she sighed, bracing herself for what consequences may have laid ahead. "I just know."

…

It wasn't often enough that Antonia actually took the time to just sit back and look through her Marauder's Map. When she'd first acquired it three years earlier, she was fascinated by it, taking at least two hours out of her days just to stare at the moving footprints and the individuals names that followed them. Sometimes the activity would bore her, seeing no more than passing students whom she did not even know and sometimes it be more entertaining, like when she'd see odd couples at a particular spot, typically in one of Snape's stores or a hallway closet.

She'd never forget the hoot she shared with all the other Gryffindors one night her fifth year when catching Filch and Umbridge, or as she preferred calling her, Highlady C, in her office together for an unusually long time. Having kept track for hours, she noted the ghastly groundskeeper's footprints departing her quarters some time after six in the morning, marking a good nine hours alone with her. She wasn't one to jump to conclusions, but she couldn't doubt an affair of some sort having gone down. And there was Ron's judgement of "Bloody hell, they actually fucked."

As she studied the map this Thursday night, the first name she noticed was his. Draco Malfoy sure spent a great deal of time in that room up on the seventh floor. It was nearly one in the morning, but some semblance of her was actually glad to see that she wasn't the only one actually up and about when classes were on in the morning, bright and early.

As tempted as she was to sneak out of the common room and go interrogate her foe where he was at that moment, while heavily risking going noticed by staff or a prefect, lest she was extra careful when cloaking herself with her garment that had done wonders for her in the long run. Still, she wasn't really in the mood to deal with him right now, not to mention their confrontation _would_ last through the night, if it were anything like that prior Saturday, anyway. As much as she could have gone for skipping her classes that Friday, she had a quiz in Snape's, and as upset as he was with her proceeding the other day's predicament, she simply needed to attend class. She'd be sure to get him later.

* * *

That weekend approached quickly, and whether she was ready or not, that due date would be waiting upstairs. As much as she really, really, wanted to skip this whole stupid thing and do what she wanted to do, she couldn't, because there would be too much hell to pay later on and she was in no mood for any more of his abuse.

It was five minutes to eleven when she trudged up the stairs in her most comfortable white satin nightie, robe and slippers. The first task that needed to be completed was the scolding, of course. His faith towards You-Know-Who was threatening the safety of others, and Antonia would be damned before she just sat back and watched this cruel prat begin to murder students and staff. Some suffering may have been in order for what she was about to put herself through, but it was quite a necessary course of action to take.

Just as she expected, he was already up there, lounging in that godawful armchair, his legs swung over the thick left armrest while he rested his head against the right. She made her presence known only when a loose floorboard creaked loudly underneath her left foot once she was halfway across the chilly, untidy room. He didn't turn his head to look at her, not even for a tick, as he read through what looked to be a novel from a muggle author, one Antonia knew quite well.

"Found this thing left behind in Flit-dick's. Thought I'd check it out…"

"You like Bentley Little?" she asked.

He closed the book and tossed it over his shoulder to let it hit the dusty flooring below. "He's alright," he shrugged, now meeting his gaze with her own. "You're late again, you know."

"Being punctual in these meetings doesn't really concern me all that much," she derided, crossing her arms snugly against her chest as the frigid air of the room began to get to her.

"Well, you know the drill, then, woman. Come hither," he commanded, clapping his hands as if to mockingly summon her over to him.

"Snape's stools are more comfortable than your bony thighs," she admitted, remaining on the spot.

"Ooh...well, in that case, you can just have yourself a seat on the solid floor, you ingrate," he said briskly, keeping in his lazy position on the chair.

A giddy notion of relief overcame her as she knelt down. By Lord, was he actually allowing her this? He must have been quite offended by her meager observation! And she was more than thankful for it.

"Why, thank you," she chimed, the apples of her cheeks warming up in something akin to flattery.

"Yeah, yeah." He rolled his eyes. "Would you like to start, then, princess?"

"As a matter of fact, I would," she beamed. Taking in a deep breath and attemptively pulling herself together in prep in what she was about to berate his way, she went forth. "I tattled on you. I told Severus and Minerva that you're behind Katie's possession, you foul creature."

"Oh, did you?" he replied indifferently.

"And here I am, very much alive. I'd say that vow was just a crock of shit."

Chuckling, he informed "Our vow dictates your sworn silence on what I tell you up in here. I never told you that I cursed that Bell girl, nor will I admit to such an absurdity. However, I must say your testing of waters was a tad cunning; not something I'd have expected of you."

"How could you?" she chided. It was a question as well as a statement. Draco was a bad kid, everyone knew this, Antonia did more so than the others, but this attempted ploy just seemed _too_ evil, even for him.

"I already told you I had nothing to do with it! Must you _always_ presume the worst of me?" he snapped, his pale cheeks reddening in frustration.

"You did! You may lie all you want, bastard. Your deceit doesn't mask the truth. I can only pray that whatever your sick plans are don't fall through. I've already lost my godfather this year, so I'd rather love to see my mentor alive and well for a while longer. Furthermore, if our weekly discussions up here don't make a turn for something even a bit more formal, then I'm just calling it quits. We're not lovers, and we're certainly not friends, let alone acquaintances."

A pause, as he twined some loose threading from the end of his shirt, his expression having relaxed somewhat, yet his still prevalent frown denoted annoyance. "We do hold a relationship of some sort, Potter. It may not be one of bliss, similarities, bonding, or whatever else, you know, like the shit that keeps _our_ mates our mates, but…" he rolled his head back again and stared upwards at the ceiling in sardonic thought, "the _passion_, that we share...all the bickering and hating is strong enough to keep us at this _war_, of sorts, that's been undying, since, well, since we first met."

She rolled her eyes. Again, nothing but complete rubbish seemed to be emerging from that churlish mind of his. "Blimey, you mad prat, are you drunk?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Maybe a little. I'm still more sober than you."

"Well, I would be better off at the pub right now...far better off."

"Mm, I must say that I'm quite affronted at your allegation. You really do believe that I am responsible for what happened to Bell, don't you?"

"I don't want to discuss that over with you right now, especially if you're going to keep declining it all. Just stop now, stop hurting people and trying futilely to murder our headmaster. That is all I ask of you. I won't hesitate to kill you if I must. Your endangering the lives of others is continuing no longer."

"Now you're beginning to get on my nerves, Potter," he sighed, leaning upwards to gawk down at her. "You're well in remembering that I'm not going to tell you everything. The details of my duties won't be stored in that head of yours, but, you should know when to identify my lies, Potter. So far, you're off, and if you won't accept that you are, then that's your loss."

"Whatever. I don't care a trifle about your 'duties' or obligations as long as people are remaining unharmed."

"Say, where's my coat, Potter?" His strive to speak on other matters was lousy, but the shift of focus did relieve the Gryff some.

"Oh, I forgot it."

"Yeah, I'd wager," he snickered. "Admit that you want to keep it, angel. Confess your liking to the scent it bears."

"Ha, what?!" she cackled. "Oh, please, Malfoy. Don't flatter yourself. I'll go get it right now if you want it so badly." She brought herself to her knees and prepared to rise from the floor until a growl directed her otherwise.

"You go nowhere until I say you may. Actually, I'd rather you have it for yourself. I'm quite gracious that you get _wet _to my scent. Please, do carry on."

"Lord!" she groaned. "You are quite the pervert, Draco. If you must know, your scent doesn't get me off, but rather, someone _else_ does." She smirked when she noticed just how jealous that made him. His new mien gave it away nicely enough.

"...Whom?"

"Many gentlemen, actually. There's James Caan and Christopher Walken and Tom Cruise just to name of few actors."

"...You mean of the mudblood realm?" he queried.

"...Yes, of the _muggle world_," she said hotly. "And, em, I am dating Neville at this time."

After having said those last few words, nothing more sounded but a brief, guttural chuckle on his behalf. She knew he would take some shock to that. In fact, she almost regretted even telling him in the first place, what with the obnoxious reaction that'd be delivered.

"Longbottom?!" he mustered under his breath, in total disbelief. "You're riding our world's greatest goof? A pusillanimous buffoon such as him _gets you there_?"

Glaring daggers his way, she refuted, "I am not having sex with him...yet! And don't be so immature. He's not a goof or a, eh, pusillanimous buffoon. He's a real gent, much unlike yourself. He's a real decent friend of mine, right up there with Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Luna."

"Damn, I would have guessed your love interest aims were higher...than they apparently are." He was keeled over at this point, laughing his head right off.

"Yes, and pug-look-alike Parkinson is a real head-turner, ain't she? Quite a sharp thorn too, hmm?" she bit out insultingly, doing little to cease his hysterical fit.

"She gives good head," he excused.

At that, her face went hot and she felt uneasy. "Um...oh," she said without entirely realizing it as she rose, more than ready to beat it.

"Don't take it so personal, now, baby. I haven't had anything to do with that loose whore since last March anyway. She's screwing around with Goyle or Blaise, maybe both. She's always had it in for black blokes."

"I really don't give a damn, Malfoy." She crossed her arms where she stood, looking around the room for a working clock. It must have been close to midnight by now, and she was starting to yawn.

"Potter?" he called, bringing her gaze back to his own. "So, are you snogging the lightweight, then?"

"He has a larger pair than what you own," she declared.

"You've seen them?" He piqued, one brow higher than the other.

"...No, u-uh, not that that's any of your business."

Smiling suggestively, he went on "So, that's your assumption? You're just _assuming_ that his junk is of more capacity than mine. That's cute, really. Hell, you've never even seen a cock in person, have you?"

"I refuse to answer that," she mumbled flatly.

"Your innocence is highly respected in my book, Potter. Modesty just so happens to appease me largely. I like that you respect yourself; don't toss yourself to just anyone like a piece of rubbish. Pfft, Pansy is notorious for that, which repulses me tremendously."

"Didn't you just get through telling me that you've used her intimately?" she scrutinized.

"I had my fun getting a little dirty," he defended. "My preferences have changed over the months. I can no longer peek at her without struggling to keep down bile."

"Didn't you feel that way for me when we were younger?" she asked, rather monotonously, lacking anger or judgement.

"...Never. You flustered me wildly frequently in those first few years, but you've never disgusted me. Can't say the same for the mudblood or weasel."

"Oh bother…" she huffed, massaging her throbbing temples. "I'm tired. I need to go to bed."

He doubted her. "More like skip off to Hogsmeade and drink yourself into tomorrow afternoon."

"What, no, Draco, I _really_ am sleepy. Ugh, so I suppose you've seen me at the Hog's Head, then, over the last while."

"Actually, I was just pulling your leg, there. I didn't know you are a drunkard...until now," he teased, rising from the armchair to stretch out his limbs and walk over towards the vanishing cabinet. "Any specific reason you are resorting to alcoholic assistance? I won't believe that _I _am pestering you _that_ much," he asked, now fiddling with the door's miniature knob.

"I'm upset," she curtly revealed.

"About what? Our petty Saturday night arrangements?" he scoffed bitterly, just as he began to scavenge the cabinet's interior.

"Yeah...but more importantly, I feel somewhat calmer when I do…" she sighed shamefully, "...get drunk. I can forget about Sirius...and Voldemort, the rotten coward...I just...alleviate."

She heard something churn from where Draco's hands were working. "That's cool," he replied, absentmindedly.

Suspiciously, she headed over towards him. "Just what _is_ that thing?" she asked, as she slowly rounded the corner of the towering mechanism.

"My project," he answered, paying her little mind.

"Your what?" she asked, dubious. "Does this thing affiliate with Voldemort's scheme? Hmm? What are you doing with this?"

When he didn't answer, she peered inside for herself, albeit briefly, for she was immediately shoved away.

"This 'thing', Potter, is not for you to know about," he scolded, as if she were a naughty and nosy child.

"Oh? So is this your most private artifact? I think it's time we get even, Draco. You've seen my...breasts, as mortified as I still am about that...so now, it's time you tell me about...whatever in God's name this is."

Turning to face her while slamming the device's openings shut swiftly, he presented her with a lewd grin. "If it's something _private_ of mine you wish to lock your pretty green glints on, then I've something satisfying in store for you."

His right hand hovered over his pants' zipper for not a moment before she jerked out of the proximity. "Cocky bugger! Just tell me about that bloody cabinet! I don't want to see...your gross privates!"

Chuckling darkly, he mocked "_Gross_ privates? You sound like a twelve year old, Potter. A man's dick isn't gross or nasty...unless you're either too young or a lesbian. So, considering you're neither, quit with the bashful whining and pull my trousers dow-"

_**Smack.**_

"**You** are gross, man," she clarified as she spat at his throbbing, pinkening right cheek. "You know what? You've influenced me tonight, Draco. I think I might propose intercourse with my boyfriend; see what _lovely_ penis he carries," she chirped, lying profoundly.

"You won't say such nonsense again in just a few moments, here, sweetheart," he countered, now seriously going forward with his lecherous objective.

As nausea sunk in, so did the imperative need to stop those prurient fingers. She found herself wrapping her arms around the slightly taller boy and crushing her lips into his. He immediately accepted her willing affections, bringing her into a rough embrace. The evident bulge that dug into her pelvis made her ill but not actually seeing it did her enough justice. His venturing hands and greedy mouth made her knees slacken, and she began to lose her balance. Noticing, Draco lifted the supple girl so that her feet no longer touched the dusty floorboards, one of her slippers having fallen off in the process. She squeaked against his mouth as a hand gripped her bum firmly as he carried her over to a foreign area of the room, where a twin-sized mattress laid against a corner. He leant down to lay her on the bed to subsequently rest on top of her. As his kisses landed on her neck, she shakily mumbled "Don't tell me you actually sleep up here."

Pausing shortly, he huffed "I do a lot of the time. Can't manage a wink of shuteye with Crabbe's troll-like snoring."

She found herself giggling at that, even as he continued to suck at the clavicle of her neck. She seemed to be drift into a dreamlike state, or a kind of delirium. In these moments, everything was so terribly wrong. This wasn't even pleasurable in a guilty sense. She was emotionally exhausted, as well as physically.

As he slid down her frame, paying much attention to her cleavage on the way, he pressed his hand down onto her waist. With a groan, he sighed "I need your consent, love." He slowly peeled her already risen and raveled nightgown up to rest above her waistline, revealing her white cotton panties for him to feast his eyes on, and boost his lust by an extreme amount. "...Do you _want_ this?" he inquired frustratingly through gritted teeth.

Shivering and more nervous than ever before in her life, she croaked "...N-no."

She stared back into his eyes momentarily before scrambling off of the mattress, coming to her feet, and scurrying for the exit, but not before tripping and taking a spill for the hard floor, to land sharply on her left hip.

"Take it easy, now, you clumsy tease," she heard Draco scornfully advise.

"Shut up! Shut up!" she cried, feeling immensely revolted with herself as she weakly escaped the room.

Once back in her dorm, she retrieved his trench coat from beneath her bed, silently opened the window next to her dresser, then tossed it out.


	18. Slughorn's Party

**Chapter Eighteen  
_Slughorn's Party_**

'_22 December_

_I haven't seen Draco since that horrendous night. It's not that I've been avoiding the halls; I have not been. I won't let him scare me off. I guess he's just quite devoted to that stupid cabinet upstairs, whatever in the blistering hell that thing is capable of doing…_

_I didn't want to kiss him...I REALLY didn't want to! But he was going to do it. I knew what would've happened up there. I would have seen it, then he would have probably __forced_ _me to touch it or lick it or something! I've gone far enough with that moron. No more, no matter what.'_

* * *

"I've invited Cormac," Hermione confessed tersely as she readied herself alongside Antonia for that evening.

Surprised, the other witch replied, "Oh? Would your doing so have something to do with Ron and his girlfriend?"

"No!" She shook her head and sighed. "...Yes. I'm anticipating a response of...envy. You know, when he sees me with him, he should feel angry and jealous, wouldn't you agree?"

"Um, well, yeah, I guess," she surmised applying soft purple eyeshadow before the vast mirror they were sharing. "But...I wouldn't get your hopes up _too_ high, 'Mione. Who knows? Him and Lavender may be perfectly okay with one another. Why don't you, I don't know, _try_ to like McLaggen, just a bit. He could be a really nice guy-"

"Ha! You're serious?" she snorted. "Rumor has it he's used his 'alluring charm' to slip into the knickers of plenty of girls; Parvati and Hannah, to name a couple."

"Abbott? Odd, I thought she was saving herself for marriage…" Toni mumbled.

"Nonetheless, I'm _not_ falling under what spell he's emitting, if he's even emitting one at all. I'm above that and so much better."

"Preach it, lovely! Way to go," Toni congratulated on her friend's sagacious personal regulation. "Just remember this. You see Ron having himself a blast upon seeing you all dolled up and with this cretin's hand held in you own, don't...fret. Just accept it and move on."

As the girls finished up with their appliance of cosmetics, Hermione grumbled, "Him and Lavender...I just may vomit tonight, Antonia."

.

.

.

She walked next to Hermione and her date whilst being as graceful as she could manage in her tallest pumps. At 5'6 she didn't take much of a liking to even increasing her height, for she rather preferred looking up at people than down with her daintiness and all, but she'd be tripping over her extra long gown's end trimmings if she didn't give herself just the boost she needed.

While she fought to keep from stumbling over her own wobbly heels, she smiled to herself upon seeing just how upset Hermione was, her thin-lipped frown having been more grave than the muggleborn herself probably realized. Next to her, the brawny fellow yakked on about Quidditch and classwork and other miscellaneous nonsense while both girls paid him minuscule attention. Hermione quivered, utterly disconcerted, as his arm found its way around her waist, much to Toni's inward amusement.

Rounding just a few corridors before the party's entrance, Toni spotted Luna moseying about the corridors, a broad smile on her face and her petite body twirling playfully as if euphoria had her engulfed in her intricately adorned lacy coral gown with oversized yet fetching ruffles.

It having been too long since they'd last had a conversation, Toni reached out to her with, "Luna, dearie!"

Pausing in her cutesy dance, she looked over at the approaching the, welcoming them with a warm grin. "Why, hello, Antonia and Hermione."

"How've ya been?" Toni asked, departing Hermione, as much as she in turn did not want that.

"Oh, I've been swell. The nargles are rather excited tonight, as you can see," she hummed, ogling upwards into nothingness.

"That's lovely. Hey, 'Mione, I'll catch you later, alright?" she announced, to be returned a heavy glower, enunciating her unwillingness to be alone with her creep of a date.

As the loony blonde and exceptionally sane redhead dilly-dallied their way onwards towards Slughorn's office, Antonia found herself speaking non stop, not bothering much to contain herself.

"Luna, have you ever done something wrong...repeatedly, aware of the consequences?" she asked, after vaguely explaining her dilemma with Draco and drinking and all that secret keeping she was tangled up in, without lucidly explaining either the alcohol or Draco.

"I think everybody makes mistakes, Antonia. I make them, I'm sure, but I don't always see something that would appear to be a mistake to others as a mistake. So, I suppose I'm making mistakes all the time, and not quite perceiving it," she shrugged.

"Please, Luna, I've yet to catch you break a rule," Antonia countered.

"I, at times, skip class to read in the library...and I'm keeping two pet mice underneath my bed in one of my old shoeboxes. My roommates don't know."

She had to choke down a bout of laughter. Goodness, was the fifth year Ravenclaw coy.

"My, what a badarse you've been," she giggled, but only to herself, as Luna often found little hilarity in certain things. "So, mistakes are what we perceive them to be, then. What is a mistake to one person is not to another...huh, I like that. It's rather wise...Who are you attending the party with? I'm going with Neville."

"Myself. I'm sure to bump into others and babble on with them through the night, just as usual with parties. Once, at a family get-together last year, I'd danced and conversed with over twenty of my relatives and their company. It was enticing, actually."

Honestly, the girl was so delightful, a tear threatened to roll down Toni's cheek. "Sounds like your boat floats smoothly, lovely."

"Smoothly enough," Luna chirped.

…

_Reminisce: December 1992 - Going Undercover_

"We have exactly one hour before we change back into ourselves," Hermione informed, handing either second year a curdling cup of polyjuice potion. It'd taken a whole month for this potion to be rendered complete, so as the three of them stood around the cauldron in the moonlit girls' lavatory, Antonia prayed to the gods above that this would work out as expected. "Add the hairs," Hermione instructed with a frown.

Tight-bummed, pug-faced Parkinson was the last person the twelve year old witch wanted to morph into, aside from Millicent Bulstrode, whom Hermione had bravely chosen to suffer through. She reckoned she'd be slimming up a tad and losing about an inch of her height after this, but it had to be done. She wisely chose not to think too deeply into this, lest she would back out of it for sure. Anyway, Ron would be enduring the worst amongst the three with the eighty or so pounds he would be putting on in moments to come.

"Egh...essence of Crabbe," Ron groaned.

"May Merlin be with you," Toni commented sympathetically.

"...Cheers," Hermione sighed, her mien one of dread.

"Bottoms up," Antonia threw in, bringing up her murky liquid to clink with the other two before soldiering but a gulp before she felt the powerful urge to upchuck from the taste, it being more foul than the canned brussel sprout soup Vernon would feed her frequently as a tot.

"Blimey!" Ron spat, dropping his glass to let it hit the stoned floor and shatter to pieces, for Hermione to do the same with hers as they hurried for an open stall behind them. Despite the queasiness and aftertaste from somewhere in hell's most contaminated regions, she kept her stance before a basin.

"Oh!" she cried as an incisive pain nailed into her stomach, her glass having joined the other two's from the wretched impact. Subsequently, her insides started writhing as though she'd just swallowed live snakes. Doubled over, she wondered whether she was going to be sick, then a burning sensation spread rapidly from her stomach to the very ends of her fingers and toes. Next, bringing her gasping to all fours, came to a horrible melting feeling, as the skin all over her body bubbled like hot wax — and before her eyes, she thinned out by a mere nine or so pounds, her hair seemed to retract back into her skull and lose its waviness to straighten out as it slowly went dark brown, with forehead bangs to follow. She shrank by roughly an inch and a half and her jawline widened out more. Looking into the mirror above the basin in front of her, she saw smaller, rounded black eyes stare back at her, her green ones having gone on hiatus.

Never before had she appreciated her actual appearance astoundingly more. She'd swear to love every last mole and visible spider vein that her body was gifted with from then on out, after having gotten to try on the unattractive Slytherin girl's body for herself. The transformation was hectic, bypassing her recently started period by a long shot...but it was over.

Catching her breath at the vanquishing agony, she turned around to face Ron, or rather, Crabbe, who'd just exited one of the stalls. She failed to keep from bursting out into hysterical laughter. She knew the initial sight would be entertaining, but she had gotten more than what her mind bargained.

"Looking fine yourself, there, Parkinson," Ron huffed.

"Haha! You - you need to deepen your voice...by the lot, Ro-_Crabbe_," she advised with a finishing giggle. "You must impersonate that lumbering oaf as best as you possibly can."

With a sigh, he tried, "Uh...bloody hell," as huskily as he could.

More chortling ensued on her behalf. "Th-that's pretty good." She glanced over the the still-closed stall Hermione was in. "Bulstrode! _God, is that an ugly name!_ Come out! Your turn! Don't be shy, now. We must ugly through this together!"

"I-I don't think I'm going!" she called. "You two, just, go on without me!"

"What? Think again, dear!" Toni argued, a bit upset that Hermione was chickening out at the last minute. She marched up to the stall and gave a curt knock. "You can't look _that _bad, but even if you do, oh well. I'm not looking to model for Vogue in this _thing _either! So...open up."

"J-just go! You're wasting time!"

"I'm not going anywhere until you-"

"GO! Please, Antonia! You must hurry! Unless you're willing to wear Pansy's body for _another_ hour."

The mere notion whipped her soul maliciously. "Um...fine. Coward! Expect a pep talk later," Toni derided, turning back to the part-time Crabbe. "Off we are, then, fatty."

Just the two Gryffs-turned-Slyths exited the lavatory to venture on towards the dungeons. On and off they laughed at one another as they walked, each finding something new to make fun of as the minutes ticked on.

"I wouldn't think you were so hideous if you were just nicer," Toni confessed, involuntarily feeling her new tresses and rotund face corridor after corridor. As strange and irksome as this experience was, it was fascinating all the while.

"Yeah, well, what do ya expect? I'm a _Slytherin_, after all. Supposed to be a rude bugger," he excused with a deep, throaty tone, perfecting who he was disguised as better by the word. "Say, ain't your voice more shrill than that, usually?" he challenged.

"How's this?" she replied, speaking in as snooty a manner as she could suffice.

"Sounds believable enough. Do you think Malfoy will actually fall for-"

"Hey! You two!"

Both pretending students froze in their tracks at seeing Ron's older brother and dutiful prefect, Percy Weasley, down the hall, fast approaching.

"Time to put that to the test, Crabbe," she whispered, then putting on a reasonable scowl.

"...Where are you two supposed to be?" the prefect asked, eyeing them both suspiciously.

"Um...at your shack of a house...rolling off of your mum," Ron answered, taking quite the risk.

Playing along, Toni laughed at Percy's agape expression. Before the older student could utter a peep of what punishment he could have lined up for such a crude and daring insult, another voice barged in from down the hall.

"Crabbe! Where have you been? Pigging out in the Great Hall _all this time_?"

For the first time in the fifteen months she'd known Draco, she was glad to see him.

"Hullo, Draco," she greeted, expecting a happy returned salutation.

"Parkinson," he acknowledged, not presenting her so much as a smile, which Toni found somewhat odd, considering word had it the two were rather close, perhaps even dating.

"There were lots of leftover glazed scones," Ron grumbled, playing his part fantastically.

Draco, in turn, rolled his eyes, then glared at Percy. "What are _you_ doing down here, Weasley?" he sneered confidently.

"Mind your _attitude_, Malfoy," the sixth year warned.

Toni and Ron watched the slick blond head before them shake back and forth in annoyance before he stalked to his left. Snapping out of their brief dumbfounded states, they hurriedly caught up with him.

"The Weasels...pathetic breed, aren't they? Shame us purebloods greatly, they do," Draco jeered, leading the two further into the dank recesses of what beheld the Slytherin's common room not far ahead. "Such an inbred kin, all those ginger-haired yokels…"

From her peripheral view, Toni could reckon just how difficult it was for Ron to keep from telling him off. She flashed him a serious look, to instill him to keep cool. Reluctantly, he remained silent.

Once the three were faced with a vast, lumpy and moss-covered stone wall, the boy in front declared "Pure-Blood," guiding the walls to separate, allowing them entrance.

Toni and Ron took a moment to observe the room's decor. Rough stone walls and ceiling surrounded them from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them. To both Gryffindors, the overall atmosphere of the room was quite chilly.

Draco descended the wide cemented steps, still going on about how lousy the Weasleys' were, much to their vehemence. They hustled down them as Draco headed for the array of furniture, taking a seat on the sofa that faced two armchairs by the hearth. Once Toni and Ron were at a chair, either stood still, as if awaiting further instruction.

Raising a bleached brow, Draco mustered, "Well, sit down." Both obliged. "You'd never think the Weasleys' were pureblood, the way they behave," he noted. "They're an embarrassment to the wizarding world, ALL of them."

Going against his friend's earlier quiet advice, Ron couldn't help but clench his meaty fist and glower poison the churlish prat's way.

"What's wrong with _you_, Crabbe?" Draco asked hotly.

Toni patted his shoulder as Ron gave an awkward fake cough and grumbled "Stomach ache."

"Had himself a platter too many," Toni giggled, more to herself. Draco shot her a scrutinizing look before carrying on.

"You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't got a report on all these attacks. I suppose Dumbledore is trying to hush it all up. Father always said that Dumbledore was the _worst_ thing that ever happened to this place."

"No, he's not!"

She couldn't help herself. Lord, trying to suppress retorts of revolt from this conniving hooligan was close to impossible! The new look of suspicion he gave her was more pronounced than the last as he swung his legs over the couch and rose from his seat. Approaching her, he argued, "What?! You think there's someone here who's _worse _than Dumbledore, Pansy?"

Ron shoot his head in an effort to try and dismiss his counterpart, but she spoke up insightfully with "Potter?"

The standing Slytherin straightened his posture and narrowed his eyes, considering her suggestion. After a few ticks, he nodded in agreement. "Antonia…" He grimaced. "You're absolutely right. _Saint _Potter! The goody-two-shoes! Thinks herself some sort of angel," he scoffed, "And people actually think that _she's_ the heir of Slytherin?"

Good, he'd gotten the ball rolling, just when Toni was preparing to bring up the matter herself. "So, you must have some idea of who's behind it all?"

Now pacing back and forth, he muttered, "You know I don't, Pansy. I _thought_ I told you just yesterday. How many more times do I have to tell you?" He snatched a small green gift box from the table he leant against and shook it. "Is this yours?"

She shook her head, and both Ron and her were a tad taken aback to see him tuck the present away into one of his robe's pockets, though this really wasn't an unusual mannerism of him...not at all.

"But my father did say this. It's been fifty years since the chamber's been opened...he wouldn't tell me who opened it, only that they were expelled. The last time the chamber of secrets was opened, a mudblood died. So it's only a matter of time before one of them is killed this time…" He smirked wickedly. "As for me, I hope it's Granger."

Again, it was Ron's turn to lose control. Toni was quick to hold him back from pouncing for the lankier blond, but struggled to do so.

"What's wrong with you two?! You're acting very...odd," Draco pointed out, granting either an expression of concern? if that was even feasible of him.

"I-I think it's just his belly ache! Getting him all fidgety and whatnot," Toni explained, her arms locked securely on the beefy boy. "Settle down!" she quietly scolded.

Shrugging, Draco busied himself undoing the lacing of the gift he'd picked up. Suddenly, Ron appeared horrified while he stared at Toni's forehead.

"Y-your scar!" he whispered.

She had all right to worry now too, judging the sprout of ginger hair that had returned over the top half of Ron's head. "Your hair! It's coming back!" she mumbled. Panicked, she looked over her shoulder to check on Draco, and upon seeing that he was occupied with that gift, she grabbed Ron's right cuff and hastily began trotting up the stairs.

"Hey — Where are you two going?" he called out, but both had continued forth with their escape, refusing to look back.

* * *

The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables. The sight in its entirety was quite engaging.

Antonia saw Neville through a crowd of chatting Hufflepuffs, suited in a white buttoned-up top and black slacks, and his hands sported pristine gloves that matched the color of his shirt. He was holding a platter containing several flute glasses with drinks she supposed to be alcoholic, which, if true, swung by her just dandy. She was so distracted by the the view that she hardly deciphered anything the shorter Ravenclaw next to her was going on about. Heavens, was Neville a tall one. He stood considerably higher than many of the students he was surrounding, heck, probably peaking near McLaggen's estimated height of 6'2. Not long after she and Luna first entered, Neville caught the two of them and smiled valiantly, almost spilling what four glasses were on the plate he was balancing in his right hand as he waved.

Gifting him a wave in return, she chuckled, "Come on, let's go see how Neville's holding up."

She squeezed through the crowd of both students and staff as she neared the waiter, and once in front of him, she pecked him affectionately on the lips, her heels having proved useful tonight as she didn't have to stand on her tip toes to perform the task.

"My, aren't we handsome tonight," she complimented, running a hand down the length of his free arm, getting the feel of his new dressy coat.

"We? I think the word you're looking for is positively _gorgeous_ when it comes to how you look." He eyed her bodice over steadily, admiring her every attribute. "Merlin, do you look stunning."

"Oh, thank you, love." She blushed under his leer.

"I see you've worn your hair up in a bun too. You never do," he noticed, his gaze now on Luna's unique gown. "I like your dress, Luna. It's rather wild...and decorative."

"It was my mum's when she was younger," she said, her tone its usual soft delicacy. "She was a member of the Slug Club when she attended Hogwarts."

"Ah, it's beautiful, indeed, sweetie," Toni commented, a part of the upper fabric entwined in her fingers. "It seems to be made with complexity. I wonder if it was handmade."

"No, I believe she bought it in one of the formalwear shops in Diagon Alley, probably in the mid seventies, from what my dad thinks," she replied humbly.

Suddenly, Toni felt a hand land on her right shoulder from behind her. "Evening, Miss Potter!" beamed no one other than her potions prof.

"Oh, um, hi, sir," she laughed nervously, turning to face him. Her smile diminished upon seeing just how relaxed the professor and host's expression was. It didn't take a very bright person to register that he was plastered drunk. His overall appearance was slovenly, though not terribly so. His breath smelt strongly of mead, as far as the girl before him could guess, and in his clutch was a tall flute of an alcoholic beverage of some sort, to confirm his breath's stench.

"How are we doing t-tonight?" he hiccupped while jabbing her bare shoulder rather harshly with his free fist.

"I'm well, professor. We're all having a wonderful time," she assured, forcing a simper as the drunken teacher's hand seemed to remain on its place on her left shoulder.

"Fan-_**tastic**_, then! Say, I'd like to introduce you to several old colleagues of mine. Why don't you follow me this way."

Before she could even think to reply, she was pulled forward speedily to collide into Horace's side, having come extraordinarily close to taking a spill in the action, her shoes and agility having not been meant for such a jerk. She was now striding towards the other side of the office, the older man's hand gripped around her oh so awkwardly. The stares she was rewarded weren't a soar through the sky with Buckbeak either.

"Been tellin' them all about you, Antonia. I've their full attention on just how prized a student of mine you are! Your skill does amaze me so, young lady," he stated proudly, leaving her to shrug and nod in discomfort.

Five elderly men were gathered around a far-off corner, all of them with a flute of wine or mead, and all of them dressed to the hilt, looking suave and professional. The spoken of witch gulped in queasiness as she was pushed forward to approach the group, Horace at her side.

"Troy, Moltimore, Gullett, Buntz, Falehoye. Miss Antonia Rosemary Potter," he announced. Warm, welcome smiles were returned their way as Antonia shakily greeted each one of them with as decent a handshake she could manage. "Just sixteen. My top student. _Phenomenal_, every potion she brews! Even exceeding her mother's work, I'd say! She's headed places, gentlemen. I can sense it."

"...Haha, um, thank you, sir," she mumbled, nearly mortified.

"Ahh, yes." He swigged back the remaining half of his drink vigorously, then allowing a silent belch. "I'm off to the little boys room, then. I'll return shortly."

And there he'd left her with five old strangers. These moments made her wish herself passed on. One of them cleared his throat and two busied themselves in a quiet conversation.

"A bright young witch, you are," one bearing a thick black mustache and round spectacles congratulated.

"...Thank you."

Off in the distance standing next to one of the lowered drapes, the rosy-cheeked girl caught a flustered Hermione signalling her over with her hand rather frantically. As much as Antonia hated giving off rude and flaky approaches, her will to exit this embarrassing placement overrode her genteel standards.

Bowing, she said, "It was delightful meeting you all, but you'll have to excuse me for a moment."

Registering a few of their understanding nods, she hurried off to meet her upset friend. "Thank GOD! You won't believe what Horace just _forced _me to confront! That coot is hell of a bragger! Practically _worshiping_ me over there, the goofy drunk," she laughed.

"That's nothing compared to what I'm dealing with," Hermione scoffed. "I've just escaped — I mean, I've just left Cormac under the mistletoe... McLaggen makes _Grawp_ look like a gentleman. Let's hide behind here so we'll be able to see him coming. He's so tall..." Slipping through the transparent veil to stand by a window, Hermione went on with, "He couldn't keep his covetous mitts off me! It wasn't long before he started begging me to sleep with him! Ugh," she sighed, keeping her eyes strictly through the drape, so as to watch out for her horny date. "The pig…"

"Just give him a little kiss, 'Mione, and if that doesn't work," Toni paused to laugh, "just brave your hand down his pants and-"

"I haven't even _seen_ Ron…" she notified, disgruntled.

"You're shocked he didn't show? He made it quite clear that these sort of parties are stup-"

"Shh! Damn, he's coming over! Um! I'm getting out of here! Cover for me!"

The drape whisked open and she was gone just like that, a quick breeze to follow her mad depart. Moments later, McLaggen had stepped through the drape, a quizzical look on his face.

"Antonia...have you seen Hermione around tonight? I was just with her like a minute ago, and she dashed off…" The taller seventh year shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Had her under the mistletoe, actually. I'm kinda crazy about her."

As flattering as his words seemed, it meant nothing when regarding his status, it being one of pure sleaze.

"She just told me that she's headed back to her dorm...has a bad migraine," she lied as best as she could, a mild sigh returning her way. Her focus was locked through the window at the freshly falling snow, but was immediately driven away when she felt a large hand plant itself on her waist.

"Perhaps _you'd_ like to take her place?"

Before she could snap at him, one of the party's waiter's approached them with a tray of appetizers. "Dragon tartare?" he asked them both.

She shook her head while Cormac plucked one of the balled up snacks. She suppressed a scornful chuckle while he bit into the strange treat, unbeknown to what it really was, but his reaction to the taste had him wondering.

"Eck, this is awful!" he muttered.

"Yes, well, you _do_ know that he was sugarcoating what those really are, right? Probably so they don't go to waste," Toni asserted, smiling all the while.

"...And what are they, really?" he inquired, still chewing.

"Dragon testicles."

Enters Severus, his expression acutely grim as per usual as McLaggen doubles over — to empty his stomach's contents all over the professor's feet. Toni gasped at the view, her craving to giggle like a schoolgirl having either fended off entirely or having brimmed nearly unbearable to hold down; she couldn't quite tell which.

As the melodramatic wizard straightened his posture and sheepishly held eye contact with the aghast prof, Snape scowled profusely, more so than when that Occlumency lesson Toni'd had with him a year earlier went horribly awry.

"You've just bought yourself a month's detention, McLaggen, — _not_ so quick, Potter," he drawled, catching the witch in her attempt to sneak off.

"Oh..._mother_," she mustered to herself as she spun around to face Snape who looked none too pleased with his puke-coated shoes. "Listen, sir, I should _really_ get back to the party...my date is probably getting ants-"

"Surely he can survive your absence for another _minute_ or two. Besides, I've only a message to convey," he monotonously informed, lacking any emotion whatsoever.

"Oh? A message?" she asked.

"From Professor Dumbledore. He asked me to give you his best and he hopes you enjoy your holiday...You see, he's traveling...and he won't return until term...resumes," he declared, speaking as if he were just forced to shampoo his greasy hair.

"Okay, um, where is he traveling?" she had to ask.

An incredibly stoic expression was all she was granted before he stalked off. Befuddled, she scanned the party over for Neville or Luna, considering Hermione had more than likely left the event altogether. Not another twenty seconds came and went before she heard an annoyingly familiar voice protest from the entrance of the office.

"_Get your hands off of me, you filthy squib!"_

Everyone stopped with whatever they were occupying themselves with, whether it was snacking or conversing, and turned their attention to the brawl that had begun to unfold. Upon seeing Draco being hauled forth at Filch's grip, Toni found herself moving forward towards the account, standing behind only the Carrow twins when she'd stopped, not really in the mood for going seen by her complicated nemesis.

"Professor Slughorn, sir. I've just discovered Mr. Malfoy here lurking in an upstairs corridor. He _claims_ to have been invited to your party-"

"Okay! Okay! I was gate crashing! You happy?!" Draco interjected irritably.

He glanced at Antonia for a second or two before Severus blocked his frontal view. "_I'll_ escort him out," he offered while keeping stern eye contact with Draco.

Draco yanked himself free from the caretaker's hold and complied "Certainly...professor," with a curled lip.

The exchange had all of the guests speechless and still in their places until Horace broke the silence, permitting everyone to resume with a lighthearted laugh. At seeing the 'gate crasher' follow Severus outside of the office, Antonia brushed in between the twins before her, her mind set solely on pursuing the leaving Slytherins to wherever, but was brought into a sudden side-embrace.

Automatically suspecting that it was the sloppily wasted prof again, she sighed, "Professor, I really need to use the-"

"Some party, yeah? Leave it to Malfoy and Snape to reform a whole room full of people," Neville chuckled. As much as she could have so gone for remaining here at the party with her date and Luna with her kooky stories and conspiracies, she felt it her destiny to spy on both mysterious men, who must have been halfway down the corridor by now.

"Oh, yup. Darling, you're going to have to excuse me, I-I uh…" Her mind hunted for the ideal exemption. "I have the runs...shouldn't have tried that blasted dragon tartare...messed me up horribly." She frowned and patted him on the shoulder before excusing herself. "I'll be a while."

"Oh, okay...um, no worries," he replied awkwardly as she stormed off.

To her luck, they were just turning the corner way down the hall once she had spotted them outside of the party. She stepped out of her heels to prevent going heard as she sprinted for them. With no time to go up to her dorm to pick up her invisibility cloak, keeping a good distance behind them as well as making no sound whatsoever was vital. In the next several minutes she'd basically reenacted her habits of furtive pursuit just as she'd done weeks ago before she was sure of what Draco was really up to.

Finally, after four minutes of striding did she see Draco be pushed rather viciously into an empty classroom — Snape to join him with a reverberating slam of the door. Certain that the coast was clear, she scurried for the door and stopped. Muffled arguing went heard, and she would have no option but to kneel down and press her left ear against a conveniently hollowed in area of the wooden door. She wouldn't accept Gringotts' entire worth to dare creak that door open. With sufficient adjustment, she could make out some of what the two inside were talking about.

"_Listen to me. I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco -_"

"_Looks like you'll have to break it, then, because I don't need your protection! It's my job, he gave it to me and_ _**I'm**_ _doing it. I've got a plan and it's going to work; it's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!_"

"_You're afraid, Draco. Stop attempting uselessly to conceal it; it's obvious. The sooner you allow me to intervene, the sooner this will all be over."_

"_You'd be right to mind your own bloody business, professor! The task is MINE! He did not appoint you to this position! Only me!"_

Some things seemed to tip over and break as something hit the side of a desk? with precise exertion. She wasn't sure who rammed who, but if she had to guess, Snape was the one resorting to physical persuasion.

"_I will not stand by and continue to watch you make a damn fool out of yourself, Mr. Malfoy! Without my assistance, your 'plans' will only result in catastrophe on both our parts! I wouldn't doubt that the Dark Lord will stop at us, either. Just take some time to imagine what torment he may put your mother through, boy. Having known our Lord __**far**_ _longer than you, I know he stops at nothing. Trust me when I say he would go as far as to rape your mother, perhaps cast her limbs straight off in quite a gradual manner, and he'd surely force you and your father to view the entire ordeal -"_

"_Shut up! G-give me some time to think this through, alright?! I must strategize this over more thoroughly...and I'd much rather go without your help!"_

"_I'll give you until the continuation of term to make up your mind...Do make an effort to think like a mature young adult, Draco. Someday soon, I'll give you no choice." _The door at the other side of the room opened with a quick groan. "_You may see yourself out. Have a splendid holiday."_

An abrupt slam echoed across the almost vacant classroom, followed by a thwack of a chair, or maybe the desk, as if having been forcefully kicked. A broad range of curses were ground out under his shrill breath out of blatant fury.

"_Hideous, oily old fucker! May he bend over at the Dark Lord's mercy! The harrowing monstrosity!"_

An ear-stinging screech determining the drag of a stool proceeded by the lone Slyth's plop into it was made out. The eavesdropping witch's stomach erupted with what felt like a feral flurry of pixies at what she could discern to be heavy sobbing. It was touchingly stunning to acknowledge his apparent ability to endure such a thing as crying, as if he actually held emotions.

The sinister revelation set aside, Antonia was for some reason happy to know that Draco was...human.

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.

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_Loving the support! The next update should be up on or before Christmas. _


	19. Desecration of the Burrow

**Chapter Nineteen  
_Desecration of the Burrow_**

"I _know_ what I heard!"

She'd been trapped in this cycle all morning, repeating herself again and again. Hermione was more ambivalent than what was safe right now. All year so far the brighter witch had been iffy towards their enemy's motives. Toni told her what she could, of course refusing to confess what consisted of her Saturday night escapades up in the RoR, but she did speak her mind on what Draco was doing that put the lives' of others at great risk.

The brunette rested in her packing and let out a breath of reluctance. "I _do_ believe you, Anne, but I believe even more that you are misinterpreting what Snape and Malfoy were actually discussing...I think you're taking what they said the wrong way-"

"Ugh! You're hopeless, Granger! Why I earth would I mistake their yammerings on how they plan to exterminate Albus in any other way than what it was?! Mind you, He-Who-Shall-Be-Named-A-Vile-Prick was brought up! And did I mention the two were whispering in solitude in an empty Charms class? That doesn't sound exceptionally fishy at all, now, right?"

She unceremoniously stuffed her trunk with what fresh underwear, clothing and toiletries she'd be needing for the next two weeks on holiday. At least Ron and the others would believe her, and wholesomely at that. Ron saw Draco and Snape for who they truly were, and Toni couldn't give her thanks enough for that. Hermione could be so stubborn; always uncertain to what demons clearly resided in many people, students and staff alike.

"...I am only suggesting that you shouldn't jump to those kinds of conclusions just yet. We've more corroboration to examine. It's ignorant to declare either of them followers of You-Know-Who when we've no solid proof-"

"But there is!"

As close as she was to blurting out not only what Draco had revealed to her personally but the unsightly tattoo marred into his forearm that bluntly gave away who his faith went to, she had to choke it down. Too many questions would arise, far too many. Hermione, well, none of the mates could know, not yet.

"Alright. Where is it?" Hermione pressed on.

Now she sounded just as Snape had that dreadful afternoon the week before. Contemplating wouldn't do her much good at this point. What more could she do but surrender her claim and let the other Gryff think whatever the hell she thought wise?

"...Never mind. Just forget it."

She dejectedly proceeded to dig around in her dresser's bottom drawer, seeking her favorite hole-free fuzzy socks, leaving the girl a couple bed's over to carry on with her packing and overly shrewd belief system.

…

Ron and Toni sat across from one another in their usual compartment, Neville having taken Hermione's place while she sat elsewhere. Hermione had been quite upset with Ron and his daft bimbo of a girlfriend, and Toni did not blame or ridicule her for that, simply because she knew Hermione had been in love with him since their first year. Frankly, she was confused as to why he hadn't returned the feelings, and instead regarded them for such a ditsy floozy. As perplexed as that fact had her, she chose to hold zero resentment towards him. She'd leave that to her jealous roommate.

Toni had brought up what she'd overheard the last night almost immediately. As she had both hoped and anticipated, Ron had agreed that something big and nasty was up, while Neville showed signs of discomposure.

"The Unbreakable Vow, you say? Well, Snape would be right to follow through with whatever plan he'd promised to...lest he's prepared to die," Ron said without a moment's hesitation. She'd gotten the gist that he didn't much care whether the austere greaseball remained alive and well or not. She could say the same for herself in all honesty, after the ways in which he treated her all these years.

"It's kind of funny, really. Snape and Malfoy...two coldhearted Slytherins both teaming up to serve You-Know-Who," Neville noted, linking his arm around the crossed-armed witch next to him, trying to elicit comfort.

"Severus is rotten...but never would I have guessed that he's affiliated with Voldemort. I nearly fainted from shock by the time they were through speaking," she added, willing to speak no more of it till later on that night with the whole Weasley troop and...Remus.

Her heart skipped a few beats at the reminder. She hadn't seen him since earlier that year in June, just days after Sirius had passed away. They'd spent a great deal of time together the day he showed up at the Dursleys' to take her away. They'd gone out to shops all over Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. She'd even taken him out to see James and the Giant Peach in one of Little Whinging's cinemas. The recreational bonding had soothed her fragile heart and mind, and having to part ways hurt her more than it really should have. Their final embrace was cherished even in the hours that came and went following their time together. She wasn't so sure herself whether or not she truly felt infatuation towards him or just guardian-like appreciation, but this man inhabited her conscience quite often. The possibility of Tonks' attendance roused much empathy for Hermione's current frustration with all the jealousy Toni understood transparently.

Lord, and she'd have to shake her hand...and there was likely no chance of getting out of a hug either…

"You know, once, when I was five or so, Fred and George had gotten me caught up into going through the Unbreakable Vow. George was the binder and Fred and I held hands while this golden strip circled our wrists. They saw no real danger in the spell, thought it to be more of a game, really. Once dad caught us he about spanked the twins' arses clean off." Ron chuckled. "I out-ran him. Hid out in the field for like four hours till he cooled down. Never seen him so angry before or after that day."

"Huh. You'd have to be either quite dimwitted or more daring than your own good to agree to even ponder doing something as deadly as that," Neville said, evoking a nod of agreement from Ron and an uneasy billow of emotions from the lady aside him. She'd so easily gone through the controversial incantation without so much as a second thought about it.

"Right, and considering the giant-nosed git and daddy's boy fall into both those categories, I must say that I shouldn't be too surpri—_Bloody hell_."

Ron stopped when a scouring-like noise issued from their left. Through the glass doorway stood Lavender, a flirtatious grin presented for her Won-Won, and her index finger pressed into the foggy glass, trailing around to form a heart. She pretentiously huffed on the heart to finish her girlish artwork up with her and Ron's first initials, to be topped off with a traditional arrow at either side and some x's here and there, her diligent handiwork having surely made the beetroot-faced ginger swoon in flattery.

"Awe, isn't that sweet, Ron," Toni giggled along with Neville, leaving the wizard across them to react opposingly.

"I'm a little fed-up with her to be entirely frank. All she ever wants to do is snog me! Just look at my lips. They're so chapped!" He sprung up and puckered for them, causing Neville to give an awkward smile and Toni to nearly burst out into pure cackles.

"Feel free to borrow my Burt's Bee's any time, love," she offered amiably.

"Burt's Bees?" they both asked.

"Oh, it's a chapstick brand of the muggle—oh, hey, 'Mione!"

Toni gave a peppy wave to her friend, yet was returned a frown, then off she went. It took them just several seconds to register that she had seen the lovey dovey door graffiti. Toni considered following after her to explain that Lavender had been the one to smear it up, but declined. She was probably best off on her own until later. They could chat that night at the burrow anyways.

"...So, uh, what happens if you break the Unbreakable Vow?" Neville cut in.

"You'd die," both Ron and Toni replied in unison.

* * *

A part of her had been hoping she was wrong, that Draco had just lied about the untimely death at the rupturing of the hex, but again, her faith had been walloped away.

In the hours until they'd arrived to the station, the three had spoken on and off about various things, Quidditch, classes, recent news, holiday plans, and so on and so forth. Neville was staying with his grandmother and planning to visit his parents at Saint Mungo's for the holidays. Weeks earlier, Toni had asked to accompany him this year to provide support and her condolences, but he was gentle to put his foot down and wish her a much more entertaining and jolly time at the Burrow, rather than cooped up in an eerie old hospital full of ill and mentally unstable patients. She had done what she could to assure him otherwise, but he was adamant in bidding her better. Seeing his parents, as they were, was gut-wrenching enough for the girl alone the year earlier when she had visited them for the first time along with the Weasleys' and Hermione. Seeing Lockhart, formerly despicable and fake as he was, babbling to himself in a straight jacket even tugged at her heart strings.

Nearing the train's exit once at the station, overwhelming dizziness hit Toni at the godawful nostalgia of what transpired on that floor over three months earlier. That sole and by now trivial memory of lying paralyzed at Draco's perverted will made goosebumps elongate her flesh, despite having succumb to far worse and more intimate inflictions on his twisted behalf since that night.

Hopping back aboard that morning was more strenuous than she had presumed it would be, with not only that blasted reminiscence clouding her focus but his hard silver stare smothering her once she'd stepped through the threshold. She had prayed to her heart's content that she would arrive _before_ he did. She had yet to meet up with Ron or Neville, and Hermione had gone on ahead of her roughly five minutes earlier, leaving her alone, and for some reason unable to tear her gaze from his own.

She must have stood two tables down from him, just gawking at him awkwardly for nearly thirty seconds before a student had brushed past her, extracting her from her daze and back into more keen perspective. She ripped her hues from his then, and mentally slapped herself in an attempt to cease her dorky stance with the egotistical prick and march onward towards the end of the train.

With an uneven release of breath, she trudged on, her luggage at hand and her walk subconsciously closer to his booth than she had realized or intended. Even with her eyes straight forward, she could feel his stupid leer on her. She could feel even more the hand that tapped her bum as she passed by. With Pansy and Goyle engaged in an interlocutor of sorts and Draco at the end of the seat, the lewd gesture was just bound, if not destined, to happen. And for once, out of the still abiding mental exhaustion from that weekend's little upstairs meeting, she kept on walking on with a dejected sigh and shrunken spirits instead of making like a true Gryff and fighting back. He would have gotten off on that resort anyhow.

Now headed out, she wanted so powerfully to cheer in triumph at not seeing him there. She had kind of expected him to await her to perhaps give her a goodbye kiss or spank or something. Neville could not save her from such a thing, certainly. His arm around her back wouldn't stunt the most outrageous or bold of Draco's motives, for what would pusillanimous Longbottom do at the sight of him slathering his girlfriend's mouth with his own sour tongue? Though she didn't enjoy admitting it, Toni knew Neville was more on the defenseless side, if not by just a wee bit, at least.

But that was not a problem at all according to the delightful circumstances. Neville, Toni and Ron were out standing in the station, without a trace of any surrounding threats. Toni caught Hermione depart the Express hastily, flashing a quick glare at Ron's turned back before storming off—right through the brick wall.

'_I hope she's not planning on changing her mind this late,'_ Toni thought, to the potentiality of Hermione calling her parents to pick her up for the holiday. If she was going to go forth with that, then Toni had to deem her hurt feelings too...serious. She was taking this dramatically enough, wasn't she? Well, Toni did give what advise she could. If Hermione was going to drown in sorrow over one of the dopiest relationships known to man next to what her and the Slyth had going on, then whatever. It was her choice after all.

Along came Mr. and Mrs. Weasley through the wall just minutes after stepping off the train. Toni and Ron waved at them as Neville brought her into a final goodbye hug and a loving smooch on the cheek before the two went off to approach Ron's folks.

"Where's 'Mione?" he asked, noticing she was not around later than he should have.

"I, um, saw her leave through the wall a few minutes ago...I think she's still upset."

He shook his head. "Pfft, kinda rude, I must say. I think mum knitted her up a new sweater. May have even bought her something. Her jealousy's really getting the best of her, yeah?"

"Oh, she ought to spend time with her own parents anyway, Ron," she dismissed as Molly began squeezing the life out of her.

"Oh! I've missed you, Antonia, dearest!" she greeted while the embrace-caught girl weakly patted her back.

"How you been, Mrs. Weasley?" she croaked as Ginny joined them.

"Ah, Arthur and I have been getting along finely. The twins' business profit is helping us plenty, indeed. And how have you been, pumpkin?"

"Great, yeah, we're all doing fine ourselves," she sighed at being released from the nearly suffocating embrace.

Arthur went with his usual more conservative greeting of shaking her hand and giving a smirk, much to her ribs' gratitude. The five headed out for the Burrow with but a single, quick query on Hermione's whereabouts.

.

.

.

Arthur and Molly had taken what Toni had to say on Draco and Severus' sneaky conversation with alarm, though a touch of incredulity had not missed them at the same time. She meant to wait until nightfall when Remus arrived to break the news to all of them, but she simply could not wait that long. In fact, she could hardly keep it to herself before they were even through their home's front door.

Ginny had gasped, utterly addled. Honestly, Toni had spoken little on Draco's eyebrow raising objectives that year, so as to prevent stimulating too much fright on her part most likely. Luna had gotten no word either on the mistrustful events.

Though she had not wanted her confirmation to be the ongoing topic of all that evening, it had been. All through that late afternoon into dusk the teens opened up on their opinions and theories regarding that specific exchange between both Slytherins. By now, words like that had to be taken with great caution, especially with Voldemort's gateway through Toni's mind. He was out there, and not far away. If the Dark Arts teacher and the wealthy bully had their spectacular ideas of how to make Tom's access to his most wanted all the easier, then sturdy proactive measures had to be addressed straight away.

"Malfoy's involvement is kind of expected...but Snape seems too trustworthy a person, amongst staff anyway, to risk doing something so…" Ginny was at loss for a proper word.

"Asinine," Toni offered. She'd taken her seat few times in the four hours they'd been there, and she'd found a preference in pacing back and forth about the largest guestroom they'd been hanging around in most of the time. "What microscopic respect I did have for that sulking toad, Severus, is completely gone, and as for what trust I _might _have bared for the other one...hell, you could throw him." She leant against the windowpane and crossed her arms, finding herself quite flustered just discussing this.

"Well, it's official. There literally are no Slytherins who can be trusted, even a tad," Ron said from his lain position on the bed.

"But what about Slughorn? He's a Slytherin, and he's good," Ginny pointed out.

Ron scoffed. "He perhaps the only one, miraculously enough."

"Anyway, I'm going to take this up with Remus when he arrives, see what he thinks of all this," Toni announced, receiving two fathomed nods.

They went downstairs at Molly's calling, the goodies having been ready and Remus would be arriving shortly. Again, for the umpteenth time in the first three days of that week alone, Toni's stomach knotted up at the prospect of his presence, and her heart pounded away like a preteen's when their crush smiles at them. It was so annoyingly dainty and inane, yet it felt so exhilarating. As ridiculous as wondering if her jeans and yellow v-necked sweater were enough to provoke the older man's interest was, not a care according to its stupidity was given. It wasn't like Ron or Ginny, or anyone else for that matter knew about her odd infatuation, not even Draco! And he had gotten to know more than enough about her in just _two_ upstairs meetings.

When he did arrive at the hearth, that luminous green glow announcing his arrival, Toni yanked her ponytail loose so that her long hair could fall down past her shoulders in their pretty, feminine waves. She was most excited to see that Tonks had not accompanied him...sweet a woman as she was.

"Remus, you made it!" Arthur beamed as the former prof stepped out of the fireplace. The two wrapped their arms around the other's shoulder briefly before Molly pecked their guest on the cheek, a vast tray of frosted cookies in one hand while the other patted his back gingerly.

"Promised I'd come, didn't I?" he replied smiling as he spotted the students standing some distance off. His simper widened as he came before them, Toni blushing terribly all the while. After hugging Ron and Ginny and asking where Hermione had been, he directed his attention onto the hot-faced witch.

"H-hi," she mumbled into his right shoulder as his arms slid around her lower back. Was it just her, or had Remus actually taken in the scent of her hair? She could have _sworn_ she heard him inhale deeply from where his head was lowered by her neck.

Just when she scolded herself for being a wishful fantasizer, he verified her inkling with, "Your hair...the scent reminds me of your mother's. Like blossoms and vanilla...it's nice."

"Um, thank you, sir," she laughed nervously as he slowly pulled away.

The four sat around the living room speaking on multiple matters, Ginny even asking why Tonks hadn't shown, for the two were rather close and she'd been hoping to see her, though Remus had surprised them all with his explanation on how they'd drifted apart; gone their separate ways just three months earlier. Toni was too taken aback to react joyously. Yet, anyway.

"Well," Ron coughed after some stiff silence had settled in. "Are we going to tell him or what?"

Both girls shot him a glare at how rudely he had stated that, _as if _Remus _wouldn't _press him on for what he was talking about. Remus chuckled lightheartedly and shrugged.

"Ha, is there something crucial I should know about, Ronald?" he inquired.

Ron locked his eyes dead on his sister and friend from where they sat together on the couch.

"Uh...ok, well, last night, Draco interrupted Slughorn's holiday party, so Snape took him out into the hall…" Toni found it harder than she predicted earlier to explain herself. "I followed them. They seemed awful suspicious to me. Snape lugged him into an empty class and shut the door, so I stood outside and listened to them as best as I could. From what I could make out, they have a plan of sorts devised that has to do with Voldemort. Snape was yelling at Draco, telling him to let him intervene, that if he didn't, he would fail...He even went on to warn that, um, if he does, well, fail, then Voldemort will not hesitate to torture him and his parents…" She paused to take in Remus' skeptical mien. "Just last week, a seventh year girl, Katie Bell, was attacked by a cursed necklace as she was hypnotised into sending it to Dumbledore. I have good reason to believe that it was Draco who-"

"Now, Antonia, let's not point any fingers at either of them so soon. While what you heard does sound...peculiarly suspicious, we can't declare either of them dutiful of Voldemort and his schemes. It's just...far too unlikely."

Hurt at his argument, she urged, "But what they said….Remus, they're obviously up to no good!"

"Perhaps Draco is, dear, but I must assure you, Professor Snape has long put that work behind-"

"Hermione said the same thing! You two are _sooo_ pigheaded! I'm sorry, but I know I am right about this," she retorted, raising her voice higher than she had aspired. Ron and Ginny hadn't spoken a word against either of them yet.

"Has it occurred to you, Antonia, that Snape was simply pretending-"

"_Pretending_ to offer help, so that he could find out what Draco's up to? Yeah, I thought you'd say that. But how would we know?"

"It isn't our business to know, love. It's Dumbledore's business. Dumbledore trusts Severus, and that ought to be good enough for all of us."

She furiously massaged her temples at the headache that had bloomed within her skull. She thought he would agree substantially, without a question towards it. Sighing, it had occurred to her that maybe he and Hermione weren't the stubborn ones. Maybe she was. _Draco _wasn't innocent, without a doubt, but Severus...really, what were the odds? Why would he be working for Voldemort? Vile and depraved a man as he was, he was still a teacher, obligated to protect the students, influence, and affect their minds with dire knowledge...not plot against all that. However, the _possibility_ lingered, no matter what Remus or the brightest witch of their year had to say otherwise.

"It's not good enough for me." She stood and stepped around the coffee table. "Won't you excuse me."

"Antonia-" Remus began.

"I'm tired," she excused, trotting up the stairs.

She closed the door to her guest room and stood against it for a moment. She had overreacted a bit, she knew this, but words could not express how agonizingly frustrating is was to know something as pivotal as this in your soul and not be convincing enough to warn others to a serious extent. Usually, whenever she was this fed-up she skipped off to Ab's for a round, but she doubted there was much alcohol in this household, minus some brandy or red wine Molly used for cooking.

The night was still fairly young, but the Lord himself could not make her retreat back into _that_. Agitated, she undressed and emptied her bag onto the floor. She snatched the first nightie her eyes landed on and slipped it on. Her bum then hit the mattress as she opened up her latest read, To Kill a Mockingbird, to its marked page. Classics weren't always suitable towards her general horror and fantasy preferences, but this novel was surprisingly excellent.

Twenty and a half pages were read through by the time a knock disrupted her focus. Halfheartedly, she set her book aside and rose to answer the door. Behind it, Ron stood with a tall bottle of firewhiskey.

"Snuck this from dad's 'secret' cupboard in the den. Got one for myself too. He won't notice. He's got an entire stock." He handed it to her. "Merry Christmas, Toni."

Drinking had not crossed her mind as something she would partake in during these two weeks, but with the opportunity available…

"Thank you." She peeled down the top's wrapping with her fingernail, spun the cork off and let it breath for a handful of seconds before taking a sip.

"You wanna come back downstairs? Nobody's mad at you, you know. We've all got our opinions. Personally, I couldn't agree more. I've always suspected that Snape is a double crossing git."

As welcoming as his proposal may have seemed, that leftover sense of consternation kept her feet where they were at the threshold. She shook her head apologetically.

"I'm not feeling too well. I've had a headache since I woke up this morning, actually…" she said wearily, rubbing the side of her head for affect.

"...You're not just saying that?" he asked.

"Really, Ron. I need some rest. I'll be up and at 'em bright and early for sure, okay?"

He nodded understandingly and took a step back. "Right, then. Don't you swallow down that entire thing, unless you want a hangover tomorrow...haha, goodnight."

She smiled goodbye as she re-closed the door. His advice had struck her mind, but missed her heart by a long-shot. Greedily, she popped the cork and chugged away. Nearly half the bottle was down her throat in less than four minutes. Mistake or not, this felt too damn good to quit.

"Whoo!" she giggled, her head already spinning as the liquid sloshed around uncomfortably in her mostly empty stomach. Out of curiosity, she rolled the bottle around in her palms to check out the alcohol percentage. Her eyes widened.

'_75%?!'_

A hangover would certainly be there for her in the morning, even if she were to discontinue drinking. With that fateful assumption, she threw her head back and gulped on, the burning in her throat having numbed at the bottle's eventual vacancy.

…

She had blurrily read another eleven pages before passing out atop the duvet. She came to at an unknown time, though it was still nighttime judging the moonlight that shone in through the uncurtained window. Groggily, she sat up, her mouth bone-dry. She needed water. She didn't think she could wait till dawn.

Her walk may have been slightly wobbly, but it didn't hinder her sense of direction or balance, too poorly anyway. The small headache she'd had earlier had swelled into a meaner one, but it probably wasn't anything a couple painkillers couldn't heal. She creaked the door ajar just barely, listening for any noise at all. Hearing nothing but the occasional soft snore from next door or down the hall, she stepped out and went on for the stairs, leaving her door open.

Having gone down these wooden stairs without shoes or socks, she had to be wary of splinters that might've stuck up, but twenty-seven steps later had not seen this problem, nor had the other thirteen. Upon reaching the bottom of the flight, she made her way into the kitchen, squinting a bit to better her sight, since no light but the flame on a lone candle on the coffee table lit up the vicinity. She garnered a cup from the dish rack and held beneath the faucet as she turned one of the handles. She let it fill just several swallows' worth before bringing it to her lips to relieve her cotton mouth and aching throat. Alleviation was fast to make its course. After cutting off the flow of water, she heeled around and exited the kitchen, almost dropping her cup and shrieking when her view landed on a man's lain form on the couch. Her eyes had adjusted some to the dim area, and she could make out that man to be none other than Remus, snoozing away.

She sighed. She was only startled to see that he was still there, for she had thought he was going back to his own residence for the night. Pulling herself together, she tip toed for the stairs with the delicacy of a mouse.

"Feeling better, I hope?"

"Oh!" she stumbled over the third step up at hearing him. "Jesus, I thought you were straight out cold!" she laughed, coming back down.

"I've always been more of a light sleeper. It's burdened me since I can recall," he yawned, stretching out.

"I see...Um, are you cozy enough here? I think there's another free room upstairs you can use-"

"No, no, darling. Actually, I'd been meaning to leave, but I dozed off after speaking with Arthur and Molly for a while." She nodded as she sat across from him on a recliner. "I discussed our dilemma with them, and they both appeared to be swaying for your side, my dear. I would be as well had my full trust not been with Albus."

"Well, don't you think that maybe Albus overlooks some things? He's a brilliant man, I know, but even geniuses can put their faith where it doesn't quite belong, right?" she asked.

"Yes, you have a beautiful point, Antonia, but considering _who_ Albus is trusting only leads me to believe that he is right in what he's doing. Severus has made some bad choices in the past, and it took a great deal of time and patience to put any semblance of faith or trust into that man. Albus has never been one to regard criminals with kindness, but when given the rare, uplifting case, he pays forward what he thinks crucial. I need you to trust me when I say that Severus is _not _a Death Eater anymore, alright? Now, as for Draco, we shall look into that later, if anymore unusual happenings arise that could involve him, but until then-"

"What if I told you I saw his dark mark?"

It had to be said.

He sat upright. Withdrawing his wand from within his inner coat, he lit two more candles that sat on the table. The glow had revealed the strain in his face, making the girl across him somewhat uneasy.

"...Then I would sure hope you'd be telling the truth."

Her hands shook in her lap and her lip quivered. It wasn't like she could take that back. What did she have to lose? Certainly not her life. He'd shown her it on the astronomy tower, a week before that lousy oath of immunity was established.

"Well, you see, um, it's a rather long story...almost a novel, in fact-"

"It's a good thing I'm comfortable."

She eyed Remus with uncertainty. There was no way in Satan's boiling bearings that the whole truth was going to be covered. He, nor anyone else, could know about the farcical tangle that made up her and Draco. Their spoken contract enforced that much alone. One word on what Draco had told her, subtle and vague as it may have been, would have been strictly prohibited to go gossiped to foreign ears. Her heart would stop in its place indefinitely at her insubordination. She wasn't exactly in the mood for laying down any violations from his fiendish majesty either, so when recounting that night on the tower when she had been caught, some white lies were in order.

"One night last month, I went up to the astronomy tower to read. I saw him up there already, leaning over the outer fencing gazing out at the sky. I think it was snowing that night...must have been close to midnight on a Saturday. I, stupidly, decided to stay where I was. I sat behind the stairs and read shortly before he noticed me. He-" she had to use her imagination, "asked me what I thought I was doing spying on him, then trailed off with how what he did was not up his alley, but…"

She discontinued when she inadvertently began to tell him what Draco had told her on his cheap justification for being a Death Eater. Lying about all this was miles from easy, and it wouldn't have been soon before long when she'd start to sound ridiculous. Remus was not a dumb man. He'd be quite able to recognize her exaggerations. This was futile.

"...Wait. This must have all just been some crazy nightmare I had. It just felt so real. It was incredibly lucid." She rose from her seat, now nauseatingly embarrassed. "I think I'll just go off to bed now."

"Don't worry about it, Antonia. My, do you get worked up over such negligible matters sometimes," he laughed.

"So you and Tonks weren't working things out?" she asked, effectually steering them off that topic.

He grimaced. "We found that we made better friends. She ran off with some healer. They plan to move out to Iceland at some point. We're close enough now. She's a delightful woman. What we had was worthwhile, short-lived as it was."

"Oh, that's good. So, are you seeing anybody now?" she had to ask, uncaring to its personal intrusiveness.

"No. Truth be told, no woman deserves a man who suffers such a condition as lycanthropy, such a curse that harms not only the sufferer but the ones close to him. One forgotten full moon and I best be in solitude. I never can recall any of what I see or feel when I'm in such a state. It's burdensome. I was just a boy of five when Fenrir Greyback infected me. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy, with perhaps the exception of Voldemort."

Her feet went on, out of her mind's decree, and planted themselves aside his own at the couch before she sat down directly beside him, so close that they were touching. The fingers of her right hand laced through the larger ones of Remus, and despite what might have been more appropriate, she rested her head on the older man's shoulder.

"I think a woman deserves what her heart wants...and needs. Don't let your affliction, dangerous as it is, hinder your heart's wishes. Your human actions render your inner beast tame. You are loved for who you are, not for that single night a month."

"I can't even risk having children, Antonia. I'm afraid you could never comprehend just what hell this disorder makes life. I'm limited to less than you'd ever know."

"You ought to take the risk, Remus. Live, please. I want you to do that for me," she spoke against his shoulder while she played with his fingers in her hand. Oh, how she was a confused temptress. Using her boyfriend, lusting over her former teacher and submitting herself to the ferret's corruption on a weekly basis. She was more than a mess with her sordid habits. She was fast becoming a disaster with her absurd and scatterbrained choices. She enunciated this point when she impulsively laid against him further to place a kiss on his scruffy cheek. Rapture flowed through her when he didn't recoil, let alone raise a brow at her move.

"Don't shun yourself away from those who love you for everything you are," she whispered, raising her left hand to rest it on his cheek. His expression did stir when she closed her eyes and began to close what already small distance they shared.

"...Antonia, sweetheart-"

"Please kiss me." Her lips were already over his own before he could falter. Once their mouths were touching, she scooted onto his lap and held either of his cheeks with both hands, shyly and slowly deepening the gesture. He reciprocated and rather passionately at that, and the two hungrily made out like a couple of hormonally driven teenagers for fifteen seconds before he woke up and pushed her face back with a resounding pop as their mouths separated.

"Good God, no, we _can't_!" he breathed sternly.

"Why not?" she challenged, barely recovering from his abrupt decision.

"Are you off your head, dear?! Must I truly take the time to explain to you why we can't-" He gaped suddenly, his stare intent past her shoulder on the window some ways behind her. He hastily brought her closer to him as he stood, lifting her from her feet as he held her in his arms. He carried her just steps out of the living room before he set her down and bolted for the front door. Swinging it open, he remained still as death at the flare that encircled the home, just glazing the end of the field. The room had an orange glow about it now as the outdoor blaze intensified.

"GO AWAKEN THE OTHERS!" Remus ordered, but Toni could already see and hear Ron, Ginny and Molly rushing down the stairs.

Toni ran for the door to closer inspect the intrusion. The flame had flicked to a halt once it had made its full loop around the yard, and there arrived Bellatrix, having swooped down from her black misty form. The giddy smirk that stretched taut and menacing on her face as she found the petrified girl just outside the entrance snapped something within her, especially when the murderess dared a mocking cackle, and Toni sped after her before Remus could hold her back.

"Antonia - NO!" he barked, tripping as he began to chase her.

Instinctive fear and other natural notions of caution were absent as she stormed through a thinned gap of the blaze and kept hot on her heels, Remus not far behind, screaming after her all the sprint. Horrific, stinging vexation soaked through her being as the wicked woman skipping happily up ahead teased her with a song of how she was responsible for killing her godfather, all in four cruel, taunting words.

Toni would not let her out of her sight or control this time. This maniac would endure much torment tonight, and Toni would be sure to save ending her nefarious joke of a life for whenever she passed out at what attack she was about to be granted in little time. The distressed redhead sobbed in frustration at not having her wand handy as many muscles in her legs pulled and sprained at the tenacious bolt, and she could not understand how such a petite and curvaceous woman could hightail it so quickly, especially in the stilettos she was more than likely wearing.

"AWFUL WHORE!" Toni bellowed at the top of her lungs as she swept through the stalks, hearing Black's screechy titters but not actually seeing her too well out here as she pursued her through the hundreds of weeds. "FILTHY, HEINOUS BITCH! QUEEN OF DISEASE!" Her lungs were positively scorching, about ready to burst from the exertion. "YOU'RE GOING TO ROT SOMEDAY! YOUR PRECIOUS VOLDEY WON'T SAVE YOU WHEN YOU DECAY IN HELL!"

Her tingling vocal cords were pleading her to refrain from hollering anything more, but her mind would have nothing of that sort. Bellatrix Lestrange along with Dolores Umbridge had both been ranked with supreme loathe in her book, and for ample purpose, thereby both needed to be punished to a grave expanse and tortured enough to practically lick death, all the while undergoing an unheard of pain, a pain that would drive them into something beyond madness...but the sixteen year old alone doubted she could slink down to levels of distributing such barbarity, even with all she'd had succumb to. This Death Eater would pay her dues, and Toni would strive to her full potential to ensure that this wench _stayed_ at the Burrow this Eve.

"Come catch me, girlie! You've got to come and get me! Wheeeeee!" the lunatic called in the wind.

Toni was on the brink of collapsing, her legs by now numb from stomping through this marshy field for the last five straight minutes. Surely Remus had worn out as well, not to mention she hadn't heard a peep of him in the last forty or so seconds.

Finally, when she heard no more of her, she froze in her place. Her surroundings had gone eerily quiet, as if there were no signs of life anywhere on the land. As the ache in her muscles crept back in from their previous loss of feeling she wept, falling to her knees.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she stammered, assuming that the undomesticated bitch had apparated off. Momentarily, all she could hear was the whooshing of the weed all around and her own jagged breathing, to be followed with fast-coming steps from behind.

"Christ, Antonia!" Remus panted as he bent over to lift the frail woman up. "What the hell are you thinking? You know you have _nothing_ on her! She could kill you in an instant!" he mustered as he kept his arms fastened around her.

"L-let me go now," she begged. "I won't let her get away again...it's a goddamn game to her, Remus! We make it so simple for her. She thinks it's fun! This has got to end toni-"

"Anne?!"

Both turned towards Ginny's nearby voice. Neither of them even realized that she had followed along. They rushed to their left into a more open area by the pond. Ginny was just feet away from Fenrir Greyback when Remus and Toni came into view. Remus briskly shot a hex his way, but it missed the wolf as he vaporized off a ways down his right, then again behind the weeds. He continued to toy with their sanity and patience as he hurtled around the surrounding field, leaving them to gasp and whip their heads back and forth for the next minute or so.

Little sound hit them for a round of seconds, but a distinct crunch of fresh weight on thick, fallen weeds caused the three to spin around and catch an ephemeral eyeful of Bellatrix before another indication of movement alerted them from their right. Spell after spell was cast towards every little sound but all in all the enemies had yet to be slapped with a single one.

Two murky masses swam from the ground and swarmed the night sky for the Burrow. Three hearts plummeted at the distant explosion and shattering of glass. Those thick smoky channels worked together to destroy the abode, leaving the home drastically ablaze at their depart.


	20. Resolutions

**Chapter Twenty  
_Resolutions_**

Magic alone could work wonders in repairing the Burrow, but little could be done instantly. Charred hunks of wood and a trunk's worth of damaged mementos had been recovered the next morning after the final billow of smoke had evaporated into the chilly air.

They had all slept in the shed that night, and Christmas day was perhaps all of their worst. The loss of presents hadn't been their sole aspect of gloom, but rather that ambush in itself. What had that indicated? Where would the attacks go from there? Toni was now at extreme risk anywhere outside of Hogwarts, though that was already a sobering validation, wasn't it?

…

Remus was out of their hairs in almost a jiffy, and Toni was the only one who really knew why. With all that firewhiskey now out of her system, her full and perceptive conscious returned and discourteously at that. She was humiliated and she was confident that he was as well. That move was tremendously inappropriate and all she could feel throughout that break's residue was remorse, self-disgust and guilt.

She may have been acting out on the dying effects of inebriation that night, sure, but she would have totally slept with him even if she were dried out; he had been the man of her dreams since third year for crying out loud! And the thirty-six year old might have regarded her as a child still, much to her irritation.

Well, what stable and jovial relationship they did maintain was now obliterated; resorted to ash and burnt bits just like the Burrow. Their confrontations to approach would be what she had yearned through her soul for it _never_ to be.

Awkward.

How could she have been so careless? Never had she showed off like such a harlot before, with the pardonable exception of her deliberate kiss to Malfoy. She couldn't even think about how she had betrayed Neville. He had treated her with respect and care and only that, and there was not one tiny infliction of neglect chucked from him that she could claim for vindication on her arse. What she did with Remus, brief as it was, was acutely unforgivable. Neville wouldn't be notified of this, but something else had to be done, because his candid being merited someone other than her, and with what was transpiring with the Slytherin and his solidified bargain, detested as it was…

It had to end. She refused to do this to him anymore, and it wasn't like she was ever all that attracted to him in the first place...He made for a brilliant companion, and she would want to cling onto their friendship most definitely.

How she would break it off with him, close as they had grown, she had to plan. It was not to be postponed, though. Procrastinating something like this would only make splitting up harder on both of them. It would be onerous, but it was essential.

The task alone was daunting, so Toni chose not to think about it too much over the remainder of her holiday. Toni and all the others took shelter under Bill Weasley's roof at his flat in a cottage not far from Puddlemere until further ado, whenever their home in Ottery St. Catchpool was re-liveable.

She had spent much of New Years Day setting goals for herself, both feeble and big. Voldemort was first to cross her mind, sadly enough. The clock was ticking away and another unthinkable encounter with him was simply inevitable. It was crucial that she conspire him and the upcoming second war, since she had been the born focal target, and though it thrashed down what debilitated ego she held at the present already, she had to come to terms that this year would not be a lovely one by many means.

Her muse was fixated on what hell laid ahead until she was back at the station on the sixth of January with Ron and Ginny. Hermione had been just stepping aboard when Toni saw her — and after her she went. Of course the Prophet had the hot topic of the Burrow's destruction featured, and Hermione had gotten a woeful letter on all the details the day after Christmas, but for some reason, Toni felt it dire to speak with her, as if she had missed her more than she should have. What happened between her and Remus on the night of the twenty-fourth was to _remain_ there as nothing more than a regretful memory coated with cinders and disappointment.

"'Mione, sweet, how've ya been?" she asked, too concentrated on her friend's sake to check or give a damn for Draco's possible presence. She passed an empty booth anyways.

"Oh, well enough, I suppose," she answered, looking over her soldier, probably to make sure Ron was nowhere near them. "I'll need you to give my condolences to Ronald for me."

"_Still_ upset about that?"

"_Yes_, I am _still_ upset about _that_," Hermione returned with an edge.

"Well, fine, okay then...Molly did have a gift wrapped up for you but…it was sort of lost with all the other stuff."

"I assumed as much. I will thank her later on."

As Hermione slipped into a free compartment towards the end of the Express, Toni joined her without her permission.

"Listen, I think you should know that it was Lavender who made that silly heart in the glass. Ron even told Neville and I that he has grown weary of the bimbette's clingy affections."

"You don't say?" Hermione said sincerely, though showed her remaining temper by crossing her arms. "That...doesn't alter the circumstances any…"

Toni sighed as she took her seat across from her. "I'll give them another few months. They're really not meant for each other."

"Well, if Ron _genuinely_ didn't like her then he'd dump her now," Hermione reasoned.

"Huh...maybe." She was ready to speak on other matters. "What'd you get for Christmas?"

"Um, some new sweaters, a collection of Dickinson's greatest works, several necklaces, boots…" she trailed off at catching Ron sliding the door ajar. She scowled at him, telling him to piss off in one mean screech. He obeyed, heading down the aisle while shaking his head at her preposterous exasperation.

"_When_ will you forgive him, dearie? When he leaves Lavender?" Toni queried, by now a tad gobsmacked at her overt jealousy.

"I'll forgive him when he…" Gazing out the window, she spoke no more, seeming to rationalize her words to come. "It's just...he's sort of broken my heart. I've always envisioned us together, from our initial meeting over five years ago...I put my faith into the idea too enthusiastically."

"Now don't you give up on that wish so quick, 'Mione. Who knows where you two could end up? I'd say together, at some point in the future, anyhow. I have a feeling."

"We'll see," she supposed glumly. "You and Neville make for an ideal pair. How are you two getting along?"

It was funny for her to bring up such a thing...Frankly, she didn't want to talk nor ponder him anytime soon. She had yet to pull herself back into shape after her devious mistake. Bemusement and culpability had been eating her alive since that night.

"...Dandy….Well, we're _okay_, but I'm not quite willing to be in a relationship right now. I adore Neville, but I think that we make for much better friends, you know? Like when we kiss, it just doesn't feel right to me...I know there's no way I could sleep with him, at least, not for a while, _if_ attraction even sprouts, that is. He's a handsome fellow and I wouldn't modify any of his values or personality had I the offer...I just know that I am not the one for him."

Had she elaborated too much? It didn't matter now, did it? It felt relaxing to tell the truth. It was more than necessary. Hermione's perplexed expression told her that Toni had really asserted something contrary to what she was foreseeing, but what was said was said.

"...Oh. I perceived you two as being rather satisfied. Are you going to split up, then?"

Just as she was about to answer, to speak of the devil, said boy showed up at their door. Toni's heart pounded away at his out-of-the-blue appearance, and suppressed the hankering to implore the Lord that Neville hadn't heard a thing that she'd just said. Judging his broad grin, she thankfully denied that probability.

Forcing herself to face reality with manners, she smiled and waved at him. He was back off to wherever he came from, then, to her surprise...and relief. Hermione silently anticipated her reply.

"...I don't know."

.

.

.

"Considering what befell during your holiday with the Weasleys home, I'd strongly suggest that we get going on our objective, Antonia. Waiting around any longer won't do us any justice. We have everything to lose. So, tonight I have two memories to share with you. Come over here, won't you?"

Nodding, she walked deeper into Dumbledore's office to stand before that blasted pensieve. In no way was this one of her favorite pastimes, but as the old headmaster had made clear at the start of term, this had to be done for the welfare of humanity down the arduous road to arrive.

"First, we shall have a look at an encounter between Voldemort as a younger adult and his uncle, Morfin Gaunt. Do try to pay close attention, my dear. This may prove worthy in time."

"Yes, I will, sir," she mumbled nervously, downright un-eager to proceed with this. Taking what he said to heart, she bowed down for the hazy basin to float down into a scene in a large and darkened room. The two are sitting by each other at a dining table, a lit candle providing luminescence for them.

The older man, Morfin, who looks to be somewhere in his fifties, points at the ring on the fourth finger of his right hand. He tells Voldemort of its significance to the Gaunt family history. He goes on to reveal Tom Riddle Senior's location, but the memory erupts to an abrupt end earlier than the witch had expected it to, and she sought little significance of this vision, even when Albus elucidates.

"Allegedly, the next thing Morfin knew, he was laying on the floor and his ring was gone. Eventually, he was charged with the murder of his brother, Tom Sr., as well as his own parents. I am not wholesomely aware of when happened exactly, but I would guess that Voldemort took advantage of the information he had received, fled off to his father's manor and murdered him and his grandparents. He presumably cast a spell on Morfin, causing him to forget his actions to rather fall under the impression that he himself had killed off all three of them. Evidently, Morfin was the one to confess to being responsible for their deaths. Voldemort had gotten away with the family ring."

Toni was left speechless at this, not that much had to be replied yet, for Albus was fast to show her the other memory. Next, Tom Riddle as a teenager is seen along with a group of other students around his age gathered around a table. A much more youthful Horace Slughorn is seated amongst them, facing Tom from several seats down. The Gaunt family ring can be seen on one of Tom's fingers, indicating that he has already murdered the Riddles.

Tom asks Horace what a horcrux is, but before he gets an answer, all goes black.

Albus gently tugged Toni upwards by her left shoulder. "Horace has blocked what beholds the rest of this reverie, unfortunately. He does not want me nor anyone else to acknowledge the entire memory. Antonia, it is up to you to collect this fully developed memory from him. I apologize for having to pressure you so, dear, but you must not fail with this."

Toni looked at him incredulously. "But, I don't think I'm persuasive enough to-"

"He trusts you profusely already. This isn't required of you tonight, but in time, understood? With determination and effort, you can succeed. Be mindful of that. I bid you much luck, and always will. That will be all for now, then. Rest well, Miss Potter."

He patted her back twice before she departed the office with mixed notions of ignorance and perturbation. How on earth would she earn something _that_ sentimental of him if he wouldn't even let Albus have at it?

…

The Half-Blood Prince's property was not being of convenience that following Wednesday morning. How would Slughorn's top student whip up an antidoting brew without enlightenment as to how to do it exceedingly flawless? A bad potion would be her first that year, and with what integral homework she'd been appointed last night at the headmaster's order, a faulty concoction was out of the question. She had to remain on his most content terms for the benefit of this mission.

Fortunately, she did come across a page containing a tip on a bezoar and how they can substitute a cure for poison. That cheat would have to suffice. At least the prof was accepting enough, though he did make a note on how he would have preferred to see her go through with the _assigned_ by-the-book elixir. She was still treated to a hearty pat on the back and dramatic congratulatory ovation just like everyday.

Once class was dismissed, Toni cringed as she slowly confronted Horace with her duty that depended on the lives of many. She cursed Albus under her breath that morning for making her go through this to begin with. Chances were she'd end up making a damn fool out of herself. Of course Horace wouldn't just _hand over _that old thought!

"Sir?" She poked his upper back to grab his attention from where he was spiffing up one of the tables.

"Yes, Antonia?" he complied kindly after glancing at her for not a second, keeping his back turned.

"Um, I was wondering...do you know much about horcruxes?"

Immediately, he stiffened and cut out all movement. She could note that this had disturbed him somewhat.

"Why, yes, but I think Professor Snape would be the teacher to go to for more eh, thorough analysis on that matter, seeing as he deals with the dark arts frequently…"

'_Oh hell...'_ She knew this would be impossible.

"I'd much rather hear _your_ views on...the matter, though," she tried sheepishly.

"I am flattered, young lady, but trust me when I tell you that Severus has details on _that_ down to a...Hmm, hold on a second…" He rotated around and narrowed his eyes down at her. "Dumbledore sent you to garner, did he not?"

Her face flushed pink and her throat constricted. This was fumbling fast downhill…

"N-no! Why would he ha-"

"What memory he already possesses is thoroughly legitimate! That is _all_ there is to it. You tell him that, Miss Potter. I have nothing more to offer at all."

"...But-"

He scurried out of the classroom at near lightening speed in spite of his heavier build. Toni huffed at that miss. Gaining this memory, if it even truly did exist as something more as Albus swore to, would be even more taxing than she had predicted.

* * *

_Reminisce: Late Winter of 1995 - The Second Task_

Just like she had with the First Task a while earlier, Toni threw up what piece of toast she nibbled away at during breakfast. She was a fretful wreck that morning. As she sat on her knees next to the toilet, she questioned her ludicrous luck and what mistake she could have possibly made to earn this.

Once the burning in her chest had subsided and her heart rate relaxed enough, she flushed and exited the lavatory feeling lightheaded. Astoundingly, she made it out of the fray with that Hungarian Horntail alive, so did a chance at victory stand today as well?

She blended in with a hoard of Ravenclaws as she headed outdoors for the departing rowboats. The night before, Neville had discovered that the consumption of a wormy spinach-like plant called gillyweed was the answer to succeeding in this next challenge - that would be taking place underwater in the Great Lake. Neville said he'd be waiting for her by the school's entrance with a sample of gillyweed. She was wearing a baggy flannel jacket and sweatpants over her beige swimsuit. She trembled uncontrollably as she saw Neville once she was outside, both at the cool air and relocated angst, her circumstances be damned. She found him standing by an oak with his hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

"Hey," she said after trotting up to meet him, her arms crossed snugly against her chest as her body's temperature decreased some. "Oh my God, man, I've never been so agitated...got sick a bit ago I'm so wound up. Wasn't bearing our Gryff charisma before or during that dragon duel either, actually, as I'm sure you'd understand. So, this um, gillyweed gonna do its job?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah, it should. It should keep you safe for close enough to a full hour, anyway," he answered as he fished around in his pocket. He pulled out a stringy green plant covered in plastic wrapping and handed it to her as they headed towards the docks. "Dobby fetched this just earlier today from one of Snape's stores. Might not be easy to swallow, I warn you. I read that it tastes rather bitter and it's kind of hard to chew."

She shrugged. "Ah well. It's not like I have an option...I either eat this muck or fail epically. I may not have signed up for this tournament, but I'm still going to give this my best shot."

"That's the spirit, Antonia," Neville approved.

As her arms rested at her sides a gust of wind had blown her jacket wide open fleetingly, but in that short space of time, Malfoy and his band of moronic apes had showed up and swaggered by not far off. It would have been strange if the bigot had ignored her and strolled on ahead.

"Potter! I can _vividly_ see your nipples through that rather thin material! Might as well not wear anything at all!" Draco boomed from just a slight distance ahead, rousing much unwanted attention and hell of a hoot out of the surrounding Slytherin boys.

"W-what?" she stammered as she glanced down at her chest in a frenzy—to see that he was—without shock—just messing with her head and taking wanton pride in her mortification...yet again.

"Screw off, you lying git!" Neville hollered his way. "Forget him. He's just teasing you," he gently assured the jittery girl alongside him.

Her heart skipped a number of beats and more vomit threatened to upsurge in her throat as the troop of fourth years up ahead halted. Gradually, Draco, Goyle, Higgs, and Crabbe made their rotation to ogle venom the Gryffs' way.

"Damn it, Neville!" Toni seethed as the boys moseyed back uphill.

"I beg your pardon, Long-arse?" their blond leader muttered. Toni instinctively backed up to stand behind her taller friend, more scared out of her wits of the enemies than usual due to that day's heightened sensitivity and stress.

"Are you going to play deaf now, you conceited snob? I said take a hike! Leave her alone for once; she's under a ton of pressure as it is. Just to be a prick, you tossed out the first perverted catcall to come to mind, and I must say, the antics are getting fast old, Malfoy. So just sod on ahead and pester someone else."

Toni was both startled and frightened at Neville's most defiant retort. She was proud of him for standing up for her, but he had just hauled himself and her into impending doom. She actually cowered at their rapid approach, going against her righteous personal principles.

"What's the matter, baby? You think this stuttering milksop has your back, hm?" Draco goaded at the meek witch. She chastised herself for being so damn timid. She had to blame Higgs and Goyle, for they were adding on intimidation with the dominating leers they were giving her.

Neville pushed her further behind him against her wanting and snapped, "We don't have time for this nonsense. If you're down for getting your bum handed to you, then we'll have to pick out another day. Come on, Antonia."

Neville took her hand and stepped off to the side, but his efforts were quickly defeated by Crabbe's brutish ram. With his plump hands, he had sent the lanky Gryffindor to the ground in one hardy thrust. Unable to stifle a sharp gasp, Toni turned her fury to the grossly overweight bully and affronted him with an emphatic sense of chivalry.

"Obese, indecorous hog! What do you think you're doing putting your meaty paws on him?!" She punched him fervidly in his bloated belly, doing little to hurt him any, evoking only a chuckle. Had she her wand on her, she'd have put that to decency over using her own weak and shaky hands, but she was at loss here.

Neville had leant up and withdrawn his wand, but Draco stomped it out of his hold fluidly. Toni could only gawk in amazement as Neville yipped out in pain, and before she could do anything, Higgs and Goyle had seized her in their arms. She kicked and writhed in their lock, alarmed that what passersby witnessed this did nothing and kept on their way downhill.

"Let go of me, you senseless cretins!" she screeched as both boys giggled and made patronizing kissy noises in her ears.

"Ooh, she's a feisty one, Malfoy! I want to play with her!" Goyle chanted, his hands becoming venturesome as they slid about her figure, his right coming to pinch her bottom piercingly enough to leave a mark.

"Ya think Filch still has those chains in his office, Greg? We could borrow 'em and make this prude catatonic back in our dorm...flip a sickle to see who gets to pop her cherry."

Draco grimaced suddenly, turning away from the sprawled victim to glower daggers at either crony. Through gritted, crooked teeth, he barked, "Release her, idiots. Must I clue you in once more on this? You animals are to keep your loins to the ladies of our sort, and _away_ from Potter." He smirked devilishly at her, leaving Neville to stalk for her. "She's mi-"

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON DOWN HERE?!" came Mad-Eye's howl, spooking all the surrounding fourth years stiff. "_Step away_ from Miss Potter!"

The DADA prof kept on his wobble, freeing the girl from additional torment with his clutch at her loose jacket. He yanked her downhill with him, only stopping briefly to snatch a few dozen points from Slytherin and rebuking the harassers with eight weeks' detention for the lot of them. Draco was out of sight soon enough—more than eager to never undergo that furry phase ever again at the menacing prof's control.

"G-good luck, Toni!" Neville wished her as her teacher practically dragged her down to the docks with him.

"Thank you, sir!" she panted. "_Lord_, they were going to-"

"Don't be so reserved, young lady. The next time anyone gives you any _shit_, you draw your prime source of weaponry and hex them into insanity, got it? You're an attractive young woman and hormonal clods like them are going to take advantage of you if you don't defend yourself."

Her cheeks burned at his vigorous statement. "Erm, I didn't bring my wand with me for this task, sir," she timorously admitted.

"_Hell_, Potter," he grunted as he pushed her down into a boat with more force than what was necessary. "_Always_ keep your wand on you! Never let your guard down, you silly girl. In your _special_ case, you really can't afford to be so lax with that...what with your name in the Dark Lord's book of targets." He plopped down beside her in the boat's center thwart and took a row. "Hustle. They're starting in less than nine minutes."

They stroked down the lake with few spoken words until they reached the mid-lake towers. Mad-Eye was the first to step out, and when he was off he didn't even consider offering her a helping hand. A true gent he was. He staggered through the broad group of students while Toni kept on his tracks no less than a foot behind him. By the ledge where the murky saltwater swished below stood the other three contestants, Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum. The prof waited aside against the railing while Dumbledore made his explanatory announcements from the top level of the middle tower.

When Toni unwrapped the gillyweed, Mad-Eye snatched the plastic and shoved it into his pockets. "Put that in your mouth," he instructed mere seconds before the clock struck eleven. Warily, she did, but her gag reflex wasn't so accustomed to the slimy and foul tasting growth. She retched and her eyes watered as the cannon went off. The three to her left dove in while she dry-heaved. Mad-Eye smacked at her back three times before he shoved her into the water. She submerged down, jerking all the while she sunk, only swallowing fragments of the disgusting plant before her body began to undergo a momentous transformation. Either side of her neck swelled to morph apple-sized gills and her fingers and toes webbed out and lengthened to sprout fins. Oh, and she no longer needed to hold her breath, because as if she were in one of her whimsical childhood dreams where she was a mermaid, she was able to take in a mouth of the water around her without asphyxiating. This development had been her coolest yet by far. Ecstasy overrode all other emotions as she swam like a fish. The experience was so enticing that she almost declined that hour's enterprise for exploring the depths of the lake's floor.

Upon pulling herself together, she strategized what she would do. She now had roughly fifty-six minutes to find what stolen 'treasure' she had to achieve. She headed north-west where she last saw Cedric swim off, and was faced with a copious forest of seaweed. She propelled through the greens, coming across a pretty underwater critter or shoal along the way. The occasional mysterious mewls had her quite cautious, but she soldiered on nevertheless, basking her nerves in psychosomatic Gryff valor to boost her ego.

At one point, a clamoring creature of some variety zoomed past her, taking her aback drastically. Whatever it was, it was big, almost as tall as her. Once through the thicket of weeds, she found herself in what she would describe as an abandoned underwater kingdom, something akin to Atlantis. The vast open area in front of her exhibited an array of lofty algae-covered pillars. Further out there appeared to be massive hooped stone structures similar to the ones at the Quidditch pitch.

The view was one she'd never want to let fade away. It was shameful that she couldn't snapshot what rested around her. As she swam on she caught glimpses of merpeople, many of whom took to keeping hidden by the pillars out of her way. She paused in her movement to squint when she thought she saw four students afloat beyond her, and she didn't have to swim onward too long before her suspicions were confirmed.

Tied by their feet, Ron, Hermione, Cho and a young blonde girl swayed, all unconscious and even peaceful. Toni hurried up to Ron, and then Hermione, to inspect their faces closer and see that they looked frighteningly stiffened and stoic, almost dead-like. Not aware of how much time she had left and figuring it to be less than a half hour by now, she hurried to loosen the bindings of Ron's feet.

Cedric arrived then and cast Cho's feet free before gathering her to bring her back to the shore. A shark-transfigured Viktor sped past Toni's feet and swam off with Hermione, leaving her be with Ron and the blonde. Over a minute came and went and Fleur had yet to show up, so Toni decided to lug her along back too.

She took both Ron and the blonde by their arms and ascended, starting to feel her inhuman qualities diminish by the tick. Her gills and webbed features had dwindled leaving her entirely mortal again an unfortunate twenty-five feet below any oxygen. She struggled appreciably to carry the extra weight up with her lungs screaming for air. She involuntarily inhaled a good few tablespoons of water before she was at the top. She coughed violently as Ron and the young girl regained consciousness. The clock had just hit noon seconds prior to making it up. She may have been the last one to return, but she had shown, as the headmaster had called it, "moral fiber", and for that she came in second place to Diggory.

She was more than thankful that the final task wouldn't be for another four months.

.

.

.

Never before this year had she hated Saturdays. And there was once a time when she cherished inhabiting the Room of Requirement, not a year ago, in fact. Well, at least tonight she had some things to say to him, though she kind of always did. Draco seldom had to utter much to elicit a response on her part, especially when he had something arrogant and disrespectful to bring up...which was always, really.

What happened on that mattress the last time she visited him before the holiday—was very much out of the question, regardless of what he initiated to _try_ and slink down to that galling enactment once more. With her wand accessible, she could fend him off the moment his hand or hands progressed where they shouldn't have, in _her_ presence, that was.

Frankly, she didn't get what was so alluring about herself to him. She never took considerable pride in her being, but that may have been because she was just a good person. The Dursleys had done superbly with moulding her into who she was with all the borderline abusive meal portioning and lack of gifting her a great load, let alone a trifle, on the holidays and her birthdays. She didn't interpret the characteristics of avarice and selfishness. She was selfless, and perhaps too much so, or so she reckoned.

She went dizzy on that top flight, the images of passionate kissing, him on top of her...It drove her mad. Why she even bothered with him anymore, she did not know. He was intimidating, dangerous, stronger, smarter and controlling, yes, but he wouldn't kill her for not showing up to these wasteful and superfluous gatherings, not _literally_, he wouldn't.

She really had _bigger_ things to concentrate on, like bathing, painting her nails, figuring out how she was going to dump Neville, hoping her bond with Remus wasn't severed completely, keeping her grades in check, obtaining that 'crucial' memory from Horace...and fretting her head off You-Know-Who in general. Draco was ultimately...just a man, and a vain one at that.

There he was in that old armchair against the wall across the room as usual, but this time when she entered, his nose was not downcast in a book. It was pointed upwards, and his focus was critical over her body. One glance at him told her he was furious.

"It's quarter to _one_, peach. I thought we agreed on eleven...I was beginning to consider that you might have _forgotten_, and that wouldn't have shocked me too much to be truthful, being the ditsy bint you are," he reprimanded from his seat.

"I'm here. That should be good enough."

"How would you like it if I were to make you late for your classes this Monday? Huh? I just might now...I know your little daily route. Could have you in a closet effortlessly. You remember how much fun we had that one time last Fall."

"I'm sorry! Hell, I'll be here early next week if it'll please ya."

"Not enjoying the attitude there, princess. I've been giving some thought as of recently, and I decided to make some _alterations_ to our deal. Throughout the week, I tend to miss your adorable bitching and prepossessing attributes. Now, I'll give you some options to pick from, alright? We can meet up here _every_ night from here on out, I can take you out to the village after classes every day, or-"

"Ha! What?" she interrupted, flabbergasted. "Doing this _once_ a damn week runs to a limit, Malfoy! I see quite enough of you as it is. I'm sorry if your crush on me is leaving you sad at my absence and pining for more, but I have a life and I have priorities to give my attention to! You're no buddy of mine and never will be! You exterminated your chances at that years ago. Be gratuitous that I am suffering through this bullshit with you to _begin_ with."

"Watch yourself, little girl. You know what you're arguing with. You won't win, and you won't suffer if you just behave yourself."

Her nerves were aflame already. Smoke should have risen from her she was so upset. He...couldn't do this to her! He had no jurisdiction over her, no matter how much he _mistakenly_ acknowledged so.

"You need to learn to value what you've got! You are so unbelievably pompous! It depresses me that you don't even try to differ from your father. You take straight after him, and you're only going to worsen in the future...Sometimes I wish you would just die, Draco."

When he didn't rebuke her, she waited in her place quietly. Watching him, she noted how his expression had softened some as he busied himself in deep introspection. Had he agreed? Finally, had he pulled his head from his arse and reflected on what a monster he was?

"...I wish you would spread you legs for me."

"Oh, FUCK OFF!" she turned on her heel. Let him hex her! Let him command that she get her arse back in there! She didn't care. He was, again, too haughty to handle that night. She couldn't do it.

"You're afraid to deal with what you can't stand, Potter! We've gone through this a laughable amount of times in the last six years, haven't we?"

He did it again. Somehow, she just had to return to him. He was impossible, but he had her in his trap. In the depths of her making she understood she was staying longer, if not just by a few more minutes.

She heeled across the room, stepping over and maneuvering all the junk and knickknacks in her way. She amazed the smug boy with what she did when she was in front of him by purposefully taking a seat on his legs.

"Let us babble, then! Go on and tell me of how you can't _even_ tell me much! Lord, I'd rather be watching two beetles make love right now! Or - or frenching Filch! Anything but this!"

Draco yawned as he relocated her to suit his penchant, and she allowed his hands to touch her. She was quite used to them anyways, just so long as they didn't wander for three certain places in particular, her chest, buttocks or genitalia.

"Take your pick," he said as he pulled her up to lean against him.

"We already have Potions together…" she whined.

"And you don't so much as look at me while we're in there," he articulated. "This is the resort. I'm under great turbulence this year and I need to express myself to someone of moderate intelligence. A sodding biscuit would have more efficient feedback than what the mates give…"

"It's not my fault Crabbe and Goyle share the intellect of Mr. Bean. Just vent to your other pal, um, Blaise," she suggested hotly.

"Mr. Bean?"

"You know, that goofy English bloke. He's mute most of the time and has a gross mole on his face, and he's always acting out in public places...oh, _that's right_...um, forget it. He's of muggle culture."

"...Not my point, Potter. While Zabini if blissfully gifted in brains, I am getting at a more personal matter here. I need you to keep your ears open for me because you're a woman and...I thereby have free reign over how soft I might get..._not_ that I definitely will, I just can't keep myself together at times. Girls don't judge us for getting emotional, whereas we mock each other for a single tear shed. I remember when Yutzmutt's mother passed away a couple years back and all us blokes called him out on his infantile moping...So, ya see? _You_ cry constantly, pet. I could put your shoulders to use, especially now. And once this plan comes to a head, I'll probably just snap altogether, considering the progression of set objectives doesn't go to shit somewhere down the line first."

"...Huh?" She stared him right in his glassy, vaguely bloodshot grays. "You mean...your plan to murder Albus?"

"Aren't we curious? My objective's factors shan't pique your intrigue. I am saying that you are useful to me because you are there for me when I require your attendance."

The Golden Girls' theme song, 'Thank You For Being A Friend' rang through her conscious at his words. He only wanted her for...her. He wouldn't tell her diddly-squat of his actual ruses, which in turn only further strained their terms by the lot. She already explained to him the unfriendly brand they burdened. He had his equals, and she had hers. Why he persisted on keeping her at his side when she obviously didn't want that was plainly redundant.

"So talk to other girls."

"Don't want to."

"Well, I already heard you cry, and I wasn't all that touched. I happen to know that you and Snape are scheming together on something big and nasty, and I know that it has to do with Voldemort. That's right, I spied on you two during Slughorn's party—the very one you intruded so rudely. I listened to you sob outside of that empty Charms class and I dubbed you a weakling!"

She didn't regret her statement, not when he spat an infuriated "_What?!"_ into her ear, and not when he threw her off his lap and called her a nosy cunt. Clearly, he was embarrassed. Draco did not ever deliberately whimper in the presence of others, and that declaration he just made? It was contradictory to fact. Of course he wasn't going to cry on her shoulder! He just fawned after the witch more than he himself could deduce fully just yet. The thing was...he just couldn't get enough of the girl, and he loathed himself for that, he truly did, but it'd been over six years and his lust, love, obsession and blinding deplore for her still burned, _very much_ alive. He was far too self-seeking to let her go astray just like that. She was his for claiming, and he did not give a damn about what she had to protest against that.

"Must I turn my back every bloody step I take from this moment forth?!" he stood over her possessively as she sat up on the floor gazing up at him in queasy anticipation. "Eavesdropping little bitch! I thought my message was lucid enough when I _busted_ your fucking nose!"

"I-I have to know what you're up to, Draco! You've already hurt Katie, and-and I won't sit back and allow you to sick your wrath on others, nor end Albus' life!"

"I will do what I must! You'll stay back if you want to remain unharmed! Daft blood traitor...Don't you see that I'm trying to keep you safe? Your involvement digs you a grave alongside mummy and daddy, Potter. Why don't we take it down a notch on the altruism and worry about our own grounds, yeah? And since you've been so difficult tonight, I'm depriving you of your offerings. I'll see you Monday after classes. I'm take you someplace upscale. You'd be wise to comply."

He left her alone without swatting, spitting or assaulting her with his prying hands and tongue, but the solitude only made her more uneasy. The tragic truth was that that year's goals and aspirations would be matted with his own.

Toni pouted in her lolled position on the floor for too long before she came to her senses and realized what that prat had left her be with. She craned her head to study that strange cabinet a ways to her right. She had some investigating to do...


	21. Habits

**Chapter Twenty-O****ne  
_Habits_**

_Reminisce: Fall of 1992 - Flint's Atrocious Teeth_

"Bloody hell," Ron sighed as a pack of Quidditch-geared Slyths cruised over the lawn where him, Toni and Hermione sat. The trio observed the Gryffindor team run into them and then the quarrel to unfold.

"Where do you _think_ you're going, Flint?" Oliver Wood asked, or rather, challenged, the opposing team captain in green.

"Quidditch practice," Marcus Flint answered.

"I booked the pitch for _Gryffindor_ practice today," Wood made clear.

"Easy, Wood, I've got a note," Flint defended, handing a scroll to the other captain.

Toni, wanting to get a closer look, rose and came up next to either team, Ron and Hermione to follow behind.

Wood snatched it from him, then unrolled the parchment to read, "I, Professor Severus Snape, hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today owing to the need to train their new Seeker." Wood quirked an eyebrow, and shot Flint a quizzical look. "You've got a new Seeker? Who?"

Two boys stepped aside so that Draco could provide the answer. Toni shook her head in annoyance and disbelief.

"You've selected Lucius' son, have you?" the Gryff Seeker, Kenneth Towler, said incredulously.

"Yeah, Towel, that's right," Draco declared boldly. "And that's not _all_ that's new this year." He stabbed his top-of-the-line broom into the grass to give referral.

"Those are Nimbus Two-thousand and Ones!" Ron spoke up. "How did you get _those_?"

"They're compliments of Draco's father," Flint replied.

"You see, Weasley, unlike some, my father can afford _the best_," Draco boasted.

"At least no-one on the Gryffindor team had to _buy_ their way in. They've got their own pure talent," Hermione brightly clarified.

Toni and Ron smiled upon her riposte, while Draco, among all his team members, clearly didn't voluntarily admit to the solid truth. The blond paced forth to glare down at their accuser.

"Nobody asked _your_ opinion, you filthy little mudblood," he assaulted.

Toni absorbed her friend's hurt expression, and hence mustered up plenty of seething fury. "How dare you?!" the redhead growled, backhanding the spiteful snob clean across the face.

"Back away now, Potter," Flint ordered while brushing her backwards with his hand on her chest.

"No, you snaggle-toothed jerk! I won't let him get away with such an insult!" she yelled, rubbing at her madly throbbing left hand.

"Pardon?" the seventh year Captain inquired crossly.

"You heard me!" she replied, now trying to barge through the three Slytherins in her way to continue teaching Malfoy a lesson. However, the older boys wouldn't budge.

"EAT SLUGS, MALFOY!" Ron asserted, drawing his damaged wand to shoot a hex at Draco, only to have it backfire and chuck him across the yard. When he hit the ground, the Slytherins had their laughs while the rest hurried for him, except for Toni, whose jacket was clutched by Flint.

"Don't like my teeth?"

"Let me go!" she rebuked, fisting his clothed muscular arm.

He grinned broadly. "_These_ disturb you, eh?" he mocked.

Her insides churned at seeing them up-close. They were so, _so_ bad. She almost pitied him. "Y-yes! Those are by far the most atrocious molars I've ever seen!" she confessed hotly. She turned her focus to the "whoa!"s the crowd yonder gave. "What is it?! 'Mione, is he okay?!" she shouted. Ron and Hermione sprinted by her subsequently. Ron's face was contorted into one of shock. Toni winced when he hacked up a huge inky black slug covered in saliva.

"We're going down to Hagrid's!" Hermione explained as she headed off in the direction of his hut with her arm around Ron's shoulder. Toni attempted to go along, but Flint wouldn't have that. With fiery nerves, she lifted her free right hand to beat herself out of the boy's grip, but availed none.

"Let me have at her, Marcus! It's my turn to get even!" Draco spat, tugging at her long hair ardently. "Is it a fight you want, Potter? Come on, then. I'll have your arse kicked in seconds!"

"Bugger!" she groaned, enthusiastically thrusting her right leg to his crotch, eliciting a hilarious response. The preteen dropped to his knees with a guttural moan, both hands at the stinging area between his legs.

Her glory wallowing was erupted when Flint wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, piercing through her shirt with his slightly overgrown fingernails. His mouth by her ear, he muttered, "That was stupid, Potter. You realize how much trouble you're in?"

"Bite me!" she hissed.

The boys around wore suggestive miens as Flint stared at her in momentary muse. Chuckling lowly and creepily, he said, "I guess you could say you're first kiss is about to be _atrocious_."

Panic became her as his words sunk in, and when the man pushing eighteen licked his lips vulgarly, she roused up enough adrenaline to escape his bearing on her and hightail it across the lawn.

"God! God! Oh, God!" she panted as the unsightly Slyth pursued her.

"Shove your tongue down the bitches throat!" she heard someone from the team bellow at him as he ran hot on her tracks.

"NO!" she shrieked as bile slithered up her gullet. Lord, if her mouth was infiltrated by as gross a mouth as Flint's, then she'd be rinsing with Hagrid's boiling cauldron water for sure. This would have perhaps been fun if her Scottish crush, Oliver, had been the one to chase after her with intentions of meeting his lips with hers, but _this_ was a nightmare of hell.

Stomping crazily through the courtyard and looping the castle's outer pillars for just over a minute got her nowhere but gradually nearer to him. Plotting transiently, she dashed straight past the final pillar leading to the hill where the hut was in front of the Forbidden Forest.

'_He won't try to get inside, will he?'_ her agitated mind wondered. '_Hagrid will keep him away,'_ she reasoned.

A meager eighty feet uphill from said hut, a protruding stone that stuck out of the ground had the twelve-year-old somersaulting briefly before coming to an abrupt stop mid-hill. Dizzy, out of breath and bewildered she came to her feet to have Flint's hungry arms catch her. She yipped as he slung her back down onto the ground, and a foreign sensation of terror awakened when he fell on top of her.

"Think that beastly slob down there'll keep you out of my way?" the tall, flat black-haired enemy huffingly derided.

"Please! I'm sorry!" she cried underneath him.

"Look at my teeth," he commanded as he adjusted himself so that her legs were in between his own.

Her eyes had been sealed and she was frowning so intensely it almost looked as if she were giving a strained smile. Her head tilted back and forth in the grass. Flint repeated himself, and so did she.

"Antonia Potter," he spoke calmly, "Open. Your. Eyes."

She just couldn't.

"You know you're just as 'rude' and 'selfish' as my crew if you go by criticizing other people's physical appearances."

"You are vile," she murmured bravely. "I only insulted you because you did so to me-"

"Did I?" he articulated. "You were picking on my Seeker, so I rather gently told you to-"

"I WASN'T _PICKING_ ON DRACO!" she argued with vice. "You daft rubbish! Did you miss what your precious Seeker said to my friend? _He_ was picking on us!"

His large hand held her cheek down and dirty fingers pinched her flesh. "Relax," he breathed. "Now if you don't look at me I'm going to forget about the innocent peck I was going to give you and instead punish you with a french kiss. Do you know what that is?"

She went pale as she struggled to break free from him. "Do you, Potter?" he repeated in a purposefully throaty rasp.

"I-it's w-when you kiss with your - your um...tongue," she whispered.

"What a smart little girl. Now, since you're not opening your damn eyeballs, I'm going to have to assume that you want that sort of sno-"

Big, dark green eyes fluttered wide to see murky brown eyes for a tick before the captain said, "_Look_, are _these_ so horrendous?"

She didn't respond, but only stared at the strangely misshapen and spaced out molars. She tried to turn her head in the other direction when he lowered his head, again wetting his lips while he did so. He locked her head in place with a single hand. This time, when her eyes shut snugly he didn't order her otherwise, simply too eager to kiss this pretty little redhead senseless, despite his physical maturity on her.

Rancid huffs worsened her grimace. Determinedly, he took her whole head in his hands and caressed the back of her head with his lengthy fingers. She prayed that he would make it very, very, very quick, with that promised peck and not a sloppy, slobbery session. When cool, moist lips pressed against her left cheek she quivered and envisioned Oliver to bring her soothing solace in this torture. Again, she pretended that the Gryff Captain was here with her when that same damp mouth planted itself on her forehead, and more than once at that. It was too affectionate to be classified as a mother's kiss. Toni wasn't aware what to think of this, being naive to romance still. She doubted she even got the gist of love making for what it really was. What? Would Flint teach her about that too while they were at it, here, in the dying grass where nobody else was about for the time being?

After a good lot of her face had been thoroughly kissed, Flint brushed his ajar mouth over the girl's for but a fleeting moment before hurried footsteps could be heard approaching. Biting out some swears that made the witch blush, he leant up to check out who the intruder was. Flint's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates at the wand that was aimed straight at him, and the wielder had Toni gaping just the same.

"Get off of her," Draco stated.

"...I think it would be in your best interest to run off, Draco, unless you want to be booted from the team," Marcus warned.

Draco laughed, shaking his head. "My father shouldn't be so appreciative of that, Marcus. He just might, I don't know, _reclaim_ those high-in-demand, top-quality brooms."

Flint sighed, removing his hands from the girl's head to rest them on the ground by her ears. "Why are you defending the little scamp? Have you inspected your bound-to-be bruised balls?"

"I'm _not_ defending her. I've payback to deliver. She's mine, not yours." He stepped down to prod the tip of his wand at his captain's head. "Head back. I'll meet with you shortly."

The boys narrowed their eyes at each other five seconds more before Flint scrambled off of Toni fumingly and stormed uphill. Draco blew a gust of air from his nostrils and scoffed before sharpening his gaze on the lain Gryffindor princess.

"Um, why did you-"

"Cram it!" he barked. "I'm burning like a mother where you savagely flung your foot! Would you like to see your craftsmanship?"

"...No." She giggled. He probably was awful colorful down there by now.

"Get up," he said coldly.

Shakily, she did. "Now you know better than to call Hermione such a horrid name," she said, crossing her arms.

"Shut your trap, Potter. You're just as filthy as the mudblood."

He flinched when she lifted her foot towards his junk to tease him. "HAHA! Chicken!" she giggled—to have it whipped away.

"Traitorous bitch!" he croaked before he shoved her downhill. The roll was awkward and had pulled many of her muscles, and when she reached the bottom just a ways from the hut, she glanced back uphill to see Draco present her his middle finger. He then stalked away.

* * *

Toni foraged the cabinet's interior and exterior alike to come clear with nothing she could put to use. Draco had been vigilant and left not a speck behind, not that she understood what he was doing with this whatchamacallit anyway. She snooped about other sections of the room and surveyed various objects and devices, but wound up leaving the room around thirty minutes after the Slyth had departed. Ultimately, she would have to reel the truth from him, and that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

As she descended flight after flight, her invisibility cloak draped over her, she randomly thought back to the first time Draco had called her that derogatory and hideously sexist word. He'd been audibly naming her a bitch since the second day of their first year, but as for the other one…

Still, after all this time, what began with a simple C and ended with a simple T, when ground out from his forbidding graces, sent her cringing in a weird spiraled combo of disquietude, infuriation and hurt.

That initial account, he'd whispered, no, growled it into her ear straight after the announcing of the Triwizard Tournament's nominees. Everyone had treated her with hostility of some form that night, even Ron, who ignorantly believed that she herself spiked the goblet with her name, as if craving 'eternal glory', and boy, did it take an abiding _while _to assure him otherwise...

Toni remembered that night like it was just days earlier. Maybe he said it because he was envious, or maybe he said it just to be sadistic like he always was. He also violated her right ear with insults of how she was an "enormously zealous overachiever" for taking such an attention-needy chance. Pixies still to that day scampered in her belly at that fourth year overall. She was, for one instance, too damn shy to show off in competitions, especially ones of that much ensured feat. And she obeyed the rules, so when Dumbledore specified that only those of at least seventeen years may join, she reckoned that fair while Fred and George disputed at him and Crouch along with many others.

His parents were up for blame, but only to an extent. They taught Draco to look down on those who weren't of "pure" blood, but they certainly didn't recommend that he do or feel _what_ he did for Potter. Lucius Malfoy was oblivious to what lustful verve had his son by, what was it? the heart, mind or dick, hell, probably all three. His kin would have more than likely disowned the boy had they seen whom he was after.

That term was putrid, which was why Toni adjudged it for Umbridge her fifth year. It was so necessary that McGonagall had herself a chuckle upon hearing the alias for the first time from an anonymous source. 'Highlady C' spread through the school like wildfire, not that said prof was very pleased with this when her Squad snitched…

The word itself, when considering its meaning...should have been used only for those who earned the titling the most, and the two intolerable women who did were Dolores and the one who'd introduced her to the word years before, Aunt Marge, when she was just a little girl of six. Toni didn't know what that word meant when she'd been called it with a sharp slap across the face after making the mistake of her life by trying to take her favorite Barbie out of Marge's bulldog puppy Ripper's bite, and she still wasn't quite sure what it meant when Draco had called her that at fourteen. When she offhandedly brought up the word to Mrs. Weasley on '94's Christmas Eve, the stunned-pale reaction from the older orange-haired woman had told her that she had spoken out of line—and gravelly so...but, she was only curious.

So laying in her bed that Saturday, well, early Sunday morning, she pondered Draco, and what in God's name he was, really. What would the man do next? He was nearly impossible to read. What did that cabinet have to do with anything? How was it assisting Draco with whatever he was trying to get at? How long before she'd wake up to miserable news on some student's or the headmaster's sudden murder?

This fellow was driving her crazy. Over _six_ damn years of this emotional and physical abuse on his fault, and it had to discontinue yet. She hated him to the point of hot tears, to the long run of yearning to beat him to a bloody stump. And while she detested him along with a sad amount of others, she had to give him credit on how he kept her teeth bared and fists...fisted, ready, at all hours. Anger would help her through what was to rise, would it not? Holding a constant grudge felt, to her at least, to be a prominent tactic towards the nose-less monster and his army of egregious aids.

Though, the way he treated her...his outbursts were inexcusable.

…

That next Sunday morning, Toni paid Hagrid a visit with Ron and Hermione. Much to her grief, Toni walked in between either mate while they bickered at one another without stopping once to catch their breaths on the way downhill. Hermione had commenced it of course, because the rancor she had against Brown was of extraordinary potential.

Luckily, they both shut up once the three of them were actually in the hut. Toni still sat so that Ron was at one side and Hermione was at the other. Hagrid was brewing water in the cauldron for tea. He was evidently upset.

"Aragog's not doin' well," he sighed glumly. "Jus' turned fifty-four a week back. I don't think he's goin' ter live through the whole of this year."

'_Thank God,' _Toni thought with discourteous relief.

"Been me best mate for over FIVE decades! Misunderstood an' forced into hidin' all these years!" the half-giant bawled. "He's in a lotta pain. I brew up what alleviations I can for 'im, but it doesn't do the poor feller much good."

"Everything dies," Toni said, sounding more blunt than she had meant to be. Her friends gave her a grim look for her lack of compassion. "Aragog has lived a long life, especially for a spider," she finished.

"What kind'er life is takin' to the middle of the sunless woods? He wasn't all that satisfied, ye know...He confided in me some stuff recently, some personal business he'd never let me in on before. Made 'imself clear on keeping what he told me to meself only, but I'll let you three in on a bit of it." Hagrid sniffled, wiping away some dripping tears. "Aragog has the mind of a man...can't help that he's a 'menacin'' arachnid. He's intelligent, more so than a lot o' people I've met. Wanted ter do things he couldn't do, not in his body. Had a great lot goin' for 'imself, he did. Now I jus' hope that he will become something a bit more worthy in his death...he could come back a humern, like he wishes."

His heartfelt speech had the girls close to shedding their own tears, while Ron was so repulsed by spiders that he couldn't generate much sympathy. Hagrid lumbered over to the steaming cauldron and brought it over to three big mugs on his table. He had been crying since midnight, when he said he last visited his dying companion.

"His condition's deterioratin' by the blink." The hulking wizard blew his nose into a stained rag. "I'll give 'im till May. Yerp, I tink he'll be passed on by then."

With not a trace of harmony in the hut left disconcerting notions for the four of them, and none of them had anything of much decency to offer. Leaving Hagrid to himself to grieve crossed Toni as necessary, because whenever she was depressed she preferred going without the company of others, but she refused to just get up and jet without first asking.

"Would you like us to return later on?" the redhead cut in.

Hagrid instantly straightened up and shook his head as if to tweak out of his woeful manner. "I'm alright, I am. Have some tea, all o' you, please."

.

.

.

Aberforth was really the only person Toni spoke to on everything, from most, but not _all_, of the details of what went on between her and Draco, to that whirlwind kiss she compelled on Remus. He listened to her and gave his tidbits, never advising or opinionating too much, just as she liked. He wordlessly swore to withhold all that he heard from her. Basically, he was her counselor. At least this was how she placed him in her book.

"Am I a slut?" she uttered too hurriedly to give it any pre-thought.

Ab's mien was blank at that. "For snogging a gentleman twenty years your senior? Well, I don't know ye well enough to answer that. Do ye even understand the accurate definition of a 'slut', malady? If we're just accordin' to me, then, nah, I doubt you're one of those."

With her green hues stuck on the counter where her Merlot rested, she let out a huff. "I'm quite disgruntled, Ab. Everything is going to be crashing in on me soon, and the sole matter I have to worry about right now is a stupid mandatory date tomorrow with that Slytherin I told you about." She neared the barman to whisper, "I mentioned he's one of them, right? A death eater? He was proud to show off his left forearm to me a while back. He fooled me. He drew me into a trap and I can't tell your brother or anybody else that he's living illicitly. And I know you don't care enough to report such, do you?"

Ab put on a glower. "I _care_, Miss. Yet, I've other work to attend to. Obligations of diligent duty for your information. If I come to get those obligations out of the way, then perhaps I can assist you, but you need to do with your own problems as you'd like. It's your life, ain't it?"

"Yes, but I have always had difficulty running it." She closed her eyes and laid her tired head in her left palm. "Other people always do that for me."

"Why do ye let them?" he inquired urgently.

"I don't _let _them. They just take it over; make it theirs at their will. I've never actually had much say in a lot of things. I sort of tripped among the stampede early in life, and the rest is history. I was...trampled over."

The barman cursed something inaudible under his breath while he shook his head in disappointment. "You're only vulnerable because ye let yerself be, dammit. You're just another lost an' defeated-feeling woman whom _allows_ the mightier and bulkier to 'trample' over them. Get ahold of yerself, whip her into cooperation and teach her to have unlimited dominion over herself, which translates to _yerself._ That's all I've got to say about that."

But it wasn't that simple, not for the chosen one. Why she never bothered with telling this man who she really was was a reckless omission. She was 'malady' and 'madam' and 'miss' and _occasionally_ 'Antonia' to him. He never did give much of a damn as to what her surname could have possibly been, and this tavern was too dimly lit to make her scar visible to give him a humongous hint.

Toni smirked out of irritation, not believing she was actually about to do this. She stood from her bar stool and went to pick up one of the empty table's floating lanterns. She re-took her seat and set the glowing device down.

"Sir," she said, combing her hair back, then bending over so that her lightening-shaped mark could be seen clear as day, "you might want to take back your statement."

"...You're..._Merlin_," he grumbled in disbelief. "_The_ Antonia...Potter? Are ye?"

"Yup."

"You're the Girl Who Lived?"

"I'm not just 'another woman' who just _allows_ the mightier and bulkier to trample over me. I'm one of the rare few who can say that Voldemort is after me _directly_. Do tell me again of how I 'could' stand up for myself and not face an inevitable personal war with the darkest madman to ever surface this world. Ab, tell me how I'm going to be OK."

The barman had other patrons to tend to.

* * *

With Slughorn's permission telling the students they were assigned to concoct "something amusing" led Toni a page towards the end of the Half-Blood Prince's guide with a recipe titled: 'The Elixr to Induce Euphoria'. Reading about it, she discovered that getting the obstinate prof to consume just a teaspoon of this would induce both elation and that memory she had to get very soon.

Albus had called her to his office the night before once she returned from Ab's. He was austere in reminding her that there was absolutely no time to waste. He needed this recollection, and badly at that. There was no feeding him her excuses nor her refutes. With a bright future first came victory...So, Horace should have been lighthearted in relenting after sipping this brew. Toni would even tell him it was like receiving a belated Christmas present if she had to.

Getting straight to work, she made sure she had what directed materials were going to make this potion magnifique. She stopped at the unoccupied supply cupboard at the end of the classroom for extra shrivelfig. The witch didn't have to stand there long before someone else snuck up.

From behind her, someone's pelvis had rocked into her. Toni gasped and set down the sought vial with almost enough immediacy and effort to crack the bottom. Two long, pale hands then rested on one of the lower shelves at either hip.

Grinding himself into her at a mocking rate and force, Draco spoke, "I'll be waiting at the second flight once you're out of transfigurations at three."

"We'll see, alright?!" she muttered as she fought to squirm away from him, checking her surroundings to make sure that no-one had noticed anything awry over here.

"I _will _be seeing you," he rasped into her left ear, giving her sides a sharp squeeze before he relented and got back to work at the other side of the class.

Toni wanted to kick the bottom shelf until her sizzling anger wore out. When would it end?! Practically jogging back to her cauldron, she peered over to where he worked across the faintly brightened room to see that he was invested in whatever he was making, as if he hadn't even moved from his station, Crabbe and Goyle even right there with him, snickering like the ignoramuses they were.

The attention she paid him didn't last. She relished in the certainty that she would not be seeing the poncy devil till after her final class—which would sadly arrive soon enough anyway. Scrupulously, her potion was concocted; this had to be perfect if the prof was going to cooperate.

.

.

.

While Draco loitered about that second flight, Toni dawdled up in her dorm as she changed out of her robes. She took great pride in keeping him waiting, and the best part of this was that she wasn't even prettying herself up too much. Her appearance wasn't for _his_ fulfillment, and if he believed differently, that was his loss.

The other roommates had not come in, leaving her alone. They had presumably already made their stops in there to put on fresh clothes or do what they needed to do while the redhead made her own stop in over twenty minutes later than normal.

Putting her frets of Malfoy on hold, she reflected Horace's underwhelming reaction to that morning's 'amusing' brew. He did love it, and he did congratulate her advanced skill as per usual, but not enough to suck that memory out of his head for her to deliver to Dumbledore's office. Albus would not be too chipper about this...

On her way out, she prayed that she wouldn't run into Neville or any of the mates...She just couldn't have that happen now, not with her requisite meeting set up for the remainder of that afternoon. Mondays were already one of her more disliked days of the week, and now she had all the more acclaim to her reason.

She caught Ron speaking to Seamus while passing through the common room, but she mercifully went unseen in turn. Hermione and Gin might have been studying in the library and Neville may have been doing something festive in the greenhouse again. He had told her of his love for herbology countlessly over the years.

From the end of the hall leading to the staircases, Toni saw Draco where he promised he would be, talking to Nott, the Slytherins' smartest wizard so to speak. The witch waited at the bottom of the stairs as she observed the two lost in conversation. A full minute she lurked there, so when it seemed that Draco didn't notice her or had made other plans for that day, she merrily turned around to head back.

"Potter!"

She didn't get far…

Just slowing down in her stride, the back of her blouse had been snagged at Draco's clutch, and she was jerked backwards to bump into his chest. Months earlier she would have shrieked and pulsated like she were midst a feral and ravenous mountain troll again but now she rolled her eyes and scowled as the foe twirled her to face him with the customary harsh exertion.

"Where in Merlin's fucking name do you think you're off to? Furthermore, I thought we discussed your habit of coming round **late**. Have my warned consequences failed to penetrate that thick skull of yours? I'm damn weary of your inattentive demeanor, Pot-"

"And _I'm _damn tired of your biased—oh, never mind! You were conversing with Theodore so I thought that perhaps you'd forgotten about our..._your _plans."

His grip slackened. "Come on. We're leaving."

He marched down the corridor so suddenly that she had to trot to catch up with him. "D-draco, where are we going?" she blurted.

When he didn't answer, she smacked his shoulder and repeated herself. Incontrovertibly fucked up as this jumbled and disorderly relationship was, when one would even go as far as to call it a 'relationship', it was still fabricated with them _both_. Toni earned all rule to voice her concerns just as he did his own, as he had been brashly doing so all these years in all the mayhem they'd shared since September first of 1991. Arguments of contribution were going to be let loose on her behalf, and if that pissed him off, then fine.

Just as Hermione addressed Ron when she was frustrated at him, Toni muttered, "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you respond!"

He chortled, taking her cute vexation wrongly.

"Slow down! Answer me, damn it all!"

"Get your coat on, we're almost there," he said coolly.

"I don't have my bloody coat! I'm not leaving the castle."

"We are," he corrected keeping at his pace. "I told you that I'd be taking you someplace fancy, did I not?" He shrugged. "Now you're going to be freezing your little bum off for the next twenty minutes. Shame."

"Wha?—Why don't you be a gentleman and lend me your coat?"

He scoffed. "I already did."

"I don't have that one anymore…" She smirked. "I threw it out my window."

This had notably irritated him. "That was _custom made_, you twat. Mm, you won't be getting another one."

The frigid air outside was unforgiving. The mere walk to the carriages proved almost too much for the girl to handle. Her tightly crossed arms didn't make for compensating insulation either. Draco found mirth at her uncontrollable shaking.

"Dr-d-draco, please," she begged.

"Keep talking, sweetheart. Your voice is music to my ears," he taunted.

Fast losing her temper, she grabbed at his wool coat's collar and tried to yank it down his arm. Her left hand was stolen by his own for the remainder of the travel.

"If you want to undress me, Potter, then we can retire to our special room upstairs."

"Oh, piss off!" she groaned. "I'll undress you when your father gets baptized."

Her nose was then bopped hard enough to make it tingle, though not bleed, or break again.

"Don't mention my father," he scorned.

"Oh, how is he? How's he holding up, I mean, bending down lately?"

"Shut up!" he screeched, crushing her hand to enunciate his point. She let out a small scream in pain, but few students were in the vicinity to notice. Students seldom went out on Mondays.

"Okay! Okay!" she yelped. "You have some grave issues with keeping your anger at bay...Just take it easy."

"_You_ take it easy! I'm on a mission and it involves more responsibility than I can offer to meet expectations. You, Potter, have two ears and an exquisite mouth that I've come to crave, much as it nearly tears my brain from the twinging stem it rests on. I'm losing my fucking mind this year. Who knew hell could be so exhaustively tedious?"

"Ha! It seems karma has come knocking at your door! It's about time, I'd say, especially after what monster you were last year."

"I could have been worse, you know. Crabbe and Goyle were shoving first years' heads into toilets. On several occasions, Crabbe even did it to some unfortunate souls after he'd shat in it. Now I refused to stoop _that_ low."

Toni about gagged. "God! What?! Those - those animals! Don't tell me you got a kick out of it?"

Draco rammed her into the carriage with an ogre's finesse, then hopped in after her. "Did at first, but it got a trifle old after the thirtieth kid."

Toni's shivering barely eased with the subtle warmth the carriage had to give. "..._Where _are we going?"

"Don't much like surprises, do you?" he sneered. "Sit tight. You won't be disappointed."

…

Icy fingertips pried around her eyelids as she was blindly led into what she discerned to be a pub considering the indistinct aroma of mead or whiskey that hung in the air. Draco had cut off her vision halfway down High Street, informing her that he would show her into what place he'd picked out while she couldn't see where they were until he removed his hands. She could only sigh at his efforts that resembled that of a playful boyfriend with his beloved other. This wasn't natural, and neither was this enmity they'd long established for one another.

"Open your eyes," he said once his hands were down. The 'big surprise' was nothing to widen her eyes at. If it was even possible, this tavern, The Hobgoblin, was shadier and darkly lit than Ab's. What she sniffed reeked stronger than the dry and stuffy air in Ab's too. Draco took her way back into the pub, and on the journey she smelt a fusion of urine, smoke, vomit? and vodka, or perhaps rum; she could not tell.

The deeper they advanced, the more wary Toni felt. "It reeks back here," she complained. "Go figure! We're not sitting by the entrance because you wouldn't be able to show off with your abusive larks." She studied their background, and few were seated around. "Typical…"

"Would you prefer our regular hang-out, love? I just wanted a change of scenery for once, and you know I won't 'abuse' you if you behave yourself to my liking."

"And just how do I do that? You smack me just about every time I speak."

He slid into one side of a cornered booth where their area was illuminated by a lone candle on a nearby curtained window ledge. When she took her place at the other side, she was both addled and grateful that Draco didn't wrest her over to sit by him, and she genuinely thought he would do that.

"Don't argue with me," he said. "Oh, and don't make childish jibes at my father either. That's one way to keep your body clear of bruises."

"You have yet to leave a bruise on me!" she admonished.

"I can. Just you toy with my final nerve, Potter. I am _quite_ capable of mangling you up."

"A fact of life, Draco, you can't always get your way, no matter how stinking rich you are. Take that to heart now, um, if you even have one of those. It'll save you a lot of damage later on."

Draco tsked passionately and averted his hard stare to the salt shaker at the end of the table. "Lowing your hardcore optimism should make fate easier for you, pumpkin. I've accepted that my future is going to be one damaged, chaotic plight thanks to _this_." He waved his left arm after bunching up his sleeve. "If you think I'm an evil man _now_, just you wait another five years or so. It's my destiny to bring pain and loss to those lesser than me, even if I would rather swing for another route...Let's just say that I don't have much say in what I'm obligated to perform."

"Shit, man!" Toni punched the table just as Vernon used to when he was outraged. "**What** are you obligated to do?! What the fuck is the point in even being in your presence like this if you won't even confide in me? And you want my _friendship_?! How is that supposed to happen if you refuse to enlighten me as to what the hell's up?!"

"I don't want your friendship, Potter. I want your listening ears, as I've already explained, and I want you for you. You alone make for a blessed coping mechanism, so please do feel flattered over that." He reached over the table separating them and seized her right arm. "I spent almost two hours explaining to you what you make me feel, pet." His fingers hugged her wrist as he brought her hand up to his lips. "You're all I ever dream about," he muttered. "You've been haunting me all these fucking years. I surrendered myself to ditsy Parkinson in desperation. I needed you out of my head. So she didn't work; didn't do sodding shit to rid you of my fantasies, and here we are."

Paying no heed to his tasteless compliments, she said, "If you're so in love with me, then why didn't you treat me with respect from the start? Why did you have to harass Ron straight off the bat when you _knew_ I'd befriended him? Why did you send me crying in mortification and anger all those times up until now? I would have shaken your hand if you had worded yourself politely, you know. And your becoming a death eater, that was all on you. Your dad inspired you, I'd reckon, and...here we are. You've yourself to blame, Malfoy."

"It's always in one ear and out the other with you, Potter! I've lectured you numerously that I am without an option! I've been chosen to carry out a vital favor and fucking it up will result in the death of my parents and I. There, I wasn't going to tell you that much in a million years, but I did! Savor that information because that's all you're getting on _that_ terrain. You'll find out the entire deal eventually anyway."

"...I will? When-"

"Afternoon, what would either of you like to drink?" a barmaid addressed.

"I'm fine, thank you," Toni said.

"...I'll take a shot of port, if ya have it," Draco grumbled.

"So, um, when will I find out?" Toni asked.

"When you find out."

Emotionally exhausted, she closed her eyes and rested her head in her palm. These cycles her and the Slyth would go through...how did she keep up? These contemporary dreaded encounters were unlike what scum the two shared in earlier years, the main difference being the habitualness of them.

"We don't get along because we conflict each other too much by personal standards, Potter. Neither of us will ever be at peace together, but we're still going to stand by one another. We'll fight and we'll long to kill each other, but it will get us off just as well. It's a twisted crock of an addition, but we thrive on it."

"I don't _get off_ or _thrive_ on this, you swine. I goddamn hate it! Filch is more tolerable than you. My uncle is, my cousin is, Snape is, your friends are, Umbridge, and she's saying a load. I won't go as far as to list off Voldemort, but I hope you're getting my context."

"Without me, you'd be a perpetual walking obliteration. You're alone, as am I. We do relate to one another in our miserable temperaments. Our mates don't get us, but they're convenient in their similarities to us. They're agreeable in our eyes. We rant to them, and we tell them what measly secrets we can tell them, and in that form, they are useful, like tools, per se. And there's us, a man and a woman of opposing Houses and alternative nature. As cheaply cliched as that saying, "opposites attract" is, I'm afraid it defines what we are precisely."

The barmaid returned with his shot.

"You've lost it," she said.

"You just don't see it because you won't come to terms with it. It's conspicuous, Antonia. If you had such an aversion to my company then you'd have mouthed off to the dumb old door quite some time ago."

"You had me swear straight against that with our 'Vow' for Christ's sake!"

"Funny, I recall executing that weeks _after_ I fractured your snout, and what's more hilarious, I was never hauled down to the coot's office that night, which infers that you kept our little altercation to yourself. I forgot to thank you for that."

She was at loss for a decent reply.

"I've called you some of the nastiest names the English language has to offer, shoved you down, spat on you, touched you in areas your prude self doesn't like to be touched, smashed your nose, and degraded you enough to make it sound like I've never breathed a harsh syllable at the mudblood. At least what I've said to you is incomparable to the phrase we purebloods use to express such contamination...And never once have you skipped off to the head to rat me out. That's had me perplexed for longer than what I'm comfortable with."

"Well, your father was so involved for a while, so I doubted you'd be expelled. Honestly, I would have probably gotten into trouble instead, what with Snape always on your side for everything. Not a single bloody House point was dropped from you snakes when you enlarged Hermione's teeth and my breasts that day back in fourth year, and I'd guarantee he _knew_ bloody well who initiated that squabble."

"Baby, if you're going to make up excuses that below par then you ought to keep them to yourself. I can assure you that Dumbledore or that wrinkled old bird McGonagall would have had my arse if they'd been informed of what I did to you on the train."

"Goodbye!" she clambered out of the booth with her hand still entwined in his. "Supreme nuisance! Give me my hand, you ferret!"

"Sit down, pet, you're making a scene."

"I don't care! I'll make a scene then! Maybe then somebody will come over here and help me!"

"Unlikely. You realize where we are? A couple of vampires and ex-cons aren't going to rush to your rescue, not when they enjoy having their own women writhe, claw and scream at them for mercy."

"You're worthless."

"You are one remark away from retribution," he threatened, squeezing her hand as if it were his property.

Toni narrowed murderous eyes at his own that were just as vengefully sinister. Had she her wand, she wouldn't have used it, because the sole way to resolving this was through communication, impossible as it may have been to do so civilly.

"What are we getting at? You've told me all you say you _can_ say, so what now? Are we to skulk around in here and ramble till nightfall? What do you need?"

"You _distract _me," he muttered, yanking her down to whisper. "Look at me! Look at my eyes! The bags and dark circles! I hardly catch a wink of shuteye anymore! All I can focus on is this fucking mission and it's eating me alive. This blasted objective is on my mind all day everyday and there's the beautiful relief where you come in and entertain me, just for being there. You're my angel, stupendously complicated and righteous as you are. Do you know how much consolation it would bring me if you would just talk to me? About - about anything! I don't give a damn! I'm not one who often seeks help, but I'm asking it of you. Help me, and I'll help you, yeah? Just sit back down and...fuck, just sit back down and be here."

"Draco," she began with a sigh, "you don't deserve any help. Look at who you are. Would you help yourself?"

"That's not what I'm getting at! Do as I say, damn you. All you have to do is talk. I'll even keep quiet, alright?"

"I-I don't have a lot on my mind," she said.

"Yes, you do. You of everybody else must have a plethora of worries in there."

"I speak to someone else about my issues, actually." Her buttocks re-met the cushioned seat. "You might not smile at what I have to say, but since you're so persistent, I'll discuss whatever thoughts surface. I've been feeling iffy and weird about kissing Remus at Ron's Burrow, you know, the one your aunt showed up to and burned to the ground. I mean, he reciprocated at first, but then he freaked out and asked me if I was off my head-"

"Are you?!" Draco blurted, a disgusted expression having taken over. "You _kissed _Lupin?"

Her cheeks heated up. "I thought you said you would be quiet!"

"Did he fuck you?" he asked, obviously jealous.

"What? No! Of course I-"

"Would you have let him?"

"Erm, well, I...um I think, I don't know…"

"**Harlot**!" Draco muttered at her. "He makes you _wet_, does he?"

The temperature seemed to rise by thirty degrees. She began to perspire she was so humiliated. "N-no."

He snorted. "I recall you telling me you are, or were, going out with Long-arse."

"I am, but-"

"Deceitful, adulterating little whore," he sniggered. "I'd have never imagined that of _you_, Potter."

"Don't ridicule me! You see, I _try_ to speak my mind and you interrupt me with your stupid and rude thoughts!"

"I must, or else our flame will smolder. I can't have that happen. It'll bore me, and it will bore you as well," Draco excused.

"My friends bore me sometimes and I'm ducky with that! This is just...detrimental, Draco."

"Ah, fuck," he whined, looking past her shoulder at the clock mounted on the wall. "Luckily for you, you may have the rest of the afternoon to yourself, because I have some grueling business to take care of." He released her hand and slipped out of the booth.

"I'm coming up there with you. Whatever you're scheming is affiliated with that cabinet," she said.

"You can't, love. It's dire that I have my full concentration dedicated to what I'm doing. You'll distract me." He poured more money than what was due on the table from his coat's pocket. "If I run into you later, we'll begin where we left off, yeah?" Before she could think to retract, he smooched her forehead. "I'll have you elaborate on how hazardous you deem us."

"Dammit! You've got a woman who knows her worth and isn't prepared to compromise it! You better change, or else I'm having nothing more of you. I don't care what our 'vow' has dictated, and I don't care if you grovel at my feet or hit me. I can only do this and be with you if you make yourself worth my time and attention."

He considered her somewhat, and proved this by combing his fingers through her tresses and agreeing with, "Yeah, right then."

She watched him leave. When the barmaid returned, she used what currency Draco left her to have herself a bottle of sherry. She drank, she wept out of frustration and all the nonsense. She laid her heavy head in her folded arms on the table as her long-sleeved blouse caught her tears. She was so accustomed to this, but at the same time, so sick of this, sick of _him_.

Her face was buried in her arms for over a half hour before she heard somebody sit down across from her, just when she was treasuring her solitude! She groaned and apprehended his patronizing. When he didn't say anything for over twenty seconds, she grew impatient.

"Won't you leave me be, you pointed-faced LOSsss-" She trailed off upon seeing a girl she recognized from her year and House with long brunette hair, large, round, dark blue eyes, and pale skin.

"...Hi. I eh, just got here and I saw that you were um, well, you looked like you were crying…" The brunette glanced at the nearly empty bottle next to them. "Or maybe just resting…" She blushed. "S-sorry, I'll go-"

"Oh no! Please stay! I've just had a bad day," Toni explained.

The other witch smiled warmly. Holding out her hand, she greeted, "Antonia Potter, right? I've never gotten to really meet you...I'm fairly sure we're in the same year. I'm Fay Dunbar."

The girl's complexion rang a bell, and her name sounded more than familiar. "Yeah, I've seen ya round, Fay," Toni said, grinning crookedly with the buzz she donned. She shook her hand. "You can call me Toni, or - or Anne, or just Antonia. I go by different nicknames to different people."

"Sure." Fay nodded. "You want to tell me about your day, Ant?"


	22. An Expecting Elf

**Chapter Twenty-Two  
_An Expecting Elf_**

Ant? That was a first...but Toni was quite fond of it.

How could she summarize her day with just the proper exaggeration? Ab was her primary source for blathering her lately melancholic and stressful days. Would this other Gryffindor even grasp what Toni had to express? Fay was one of the girls she'd seen from the corner of her eye over the years. They knew so little of one another.

"Er…" Toni absentmindedly rubbed the nape of her neck in contemplation. '_How much do I dare say? I'd have to go waaaay back if I'm going to even mention how Draco's forced himself into my life's schedule...Far too much explaining for now...I'll save that for a weekend, depending on just how deep this girl digs herself into my messy life. Hell, she might not even want to stick around by my side...Doing so would benefit her anyhow...Though I really could use a new friend…Someone to vent to...someone who'll understand.'_

"Well, I um, woke up with a bit of a headache this morning…" When looking back into Fay's eyes was too onerous, she set her sights on the wooden tabletop. Toni had always been a terrible liar. She'd lied before, and plenty of times, but she seldom pulled off a 'stellar' lie; one that would get her right off the hook depending on the situation. Her exaggeratory skills were adequate, but far from brag-worthy. This Fay...She didn't want to lie or exaggerate to her for some reason.

"Do you have a lot of time on your hands?" Toni asked quietly.

The other Gryff nodded, her chin resting on her palm as she leant forward, seeming quite interested in whatever Toni had to say. Seeing this of Fay had boosted her confidence some. Still, Toni would try to censor some stuff so as to prevent going overboard or breaking down into a sob fest again.

"Well, I'll start with this assignment of sorts that the headmaster has dropped on me, without my permission, though it is very important...Lord, do sight tight, Fay," Toni warned in a friendly tone. "...OK, here we go. Late last August, Albus popped up uninvited to some muggle cafe I was sitting in, just when an attractive fellow whom I would never actually date, but perhaps befriend, was trying to initiate a conversation with me...Haha, I was most excited to see the headmaster awaiting me outdoors...Last summer was what I believe hell to be. I lost my godfather, Sirius, last year...I've been grieving all this time…"

Toni relaxed internally when this girl didn't respond, not even a curt "I'm sorry" or a "How awful, my condolences." Fay's yap was sealed, and her green eyes were still on Toni just the same. How delightfully respectful she was turning out to be, so unlike Draco!

"Anyhoo, Albus and I apparated off to Professor Slughorn's 'temporary safe house' so that Albus could persuade the old man to retake-up his old post for potions. He was reluctant, but managed to give in. Upon leaving, Albus clued me in on how I am Slughorn's 'jewel' or whatever. I'll hop to just how correct Albus was about that later on, after I explain all this first. All year I've been slaving over Albus' tasks for me, dipping my head down into his pensieve...it's like a tall basin that shows captured memories; the device itself is pretty damn neat I must admit. So in this pensieve, I see these memories, and the first one I remember seeing was of Albus paying a visit to Voldemort before he was Voldemort, you know, when he was a kid at an orphanage. I don't recall all the details, but what sticks out the most is Voldemort telling Albus he can speak parseltongue...as can I."

"Oh, I remember that," Fay interjected with a smirk. "Second year during the dueling club when you were set up with, uh, Draco Malfoy, right?"

There those damn pixies went flurrying in her belly once more at that blasted name… "Yes. Actually, Lockhart called Neville up for the challenge and I volunteered after seeing the petrified look on the poor kid's face...haha, we're close companions."

Toni wanted to frown when she noticed she didn't declare Neville as her boyfriend...

"Yeah, and you had the bejesus freaked out of all of us when you started hissing at that conjured snake," Fay said, bringing Toni back to that day.

…

_Reminisce: Late Fall of 1992 - The Dueling Club_

Gather round! Gather...round. Can everybody see me? Can you all...hear me?" Professor Lockhart chanted to the hoard of second years on either side of the table he was swaggering pompously on. "Excellent. In light of dark events of the recent weeks, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little 'dueling club' to TRAIN! you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves, as I myself have done on countless occasions."

"Bullshit," Toni whispered in Ron's ear, evoking a nod in turn.

"...For full details, see my published works," he finished, undoing his cape and tossing it into the crowd before him so that a group of his fangirls could wrestle for it. "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape." From down the table, the raven-haired prof stalked forth. This got many of the children gasping and chatting amongst themselves. "He has sportingly agreed to help me with the demonstration. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry...You'll still have your potions master when I'm through with him."

"I'd gamble my entire savings account he's right about that," Toni mumbled to Ron quickly.

"Yeah, really," Ron replied. "This is gonna be interesting…"

The teachers neared each other, their wands handy. Once there was a slight distance between them, either grownup drew their wand up and gave their bows before walking off in their own direction towards the ends of the table. Stopping and refacing one another, the profs took their pose.

"One...two...three," Lockhart counted down, reeking of self-pride.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Snape announced without a stutter or missed syllable, shooting the permed author. He flew like a ragdoll and crashing back down with a thud. Hermione winced, fixatingly biting at her bottom lip while Toni and Ron had themselves a hearty chuckle.

"Do you think he's alright?!" Hermione blurted as the prof groggily leant up.

"Who cares?" Ron said.

"_Excellent _idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind me saying, it was _pretty_ obvious what you were about to do...If I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy," Lockhart covered lamely, leaving Toni to press her sleeve over her mouth after inadvertently giving an audacious "_**pfft**_!"

"Perhaps it would be prudent to first teach the students to block unfriendly spells, professor," Snape suggested, a rare grin aligning his thin lips.

"An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape! Uh, let's have a volunteer pair...Longbottom! Weasley! How about you two?"

"Weasley's wand causes devastation with the simplest spells. He'd be sending Longbottom to the hospital wing in a matchbox…Might I suggest someone from my own House?" Snape offered, shrugging. "Malfoy, perhaps?"

Toni looked over at Neville who wasn't budging from where he stood. In fact, he was sinking down to the floor as if to try poorly to go unseen. The redhead sighed, not quite up for taking his place, but she'd hate to see him suffer…

"Neville has a migraine, professor," Toni called out to Lockhart as she headed for the steps at the other side. "I volunteer."

'_Curse his cowardice!'_ her mind groaned.

"Very well, Potter," Lockhart permitted. He bid her good luck as she passed him, her nervous focus attached to her rival as she walked on, drawing her wand.

Within their right spacing, they rose their wands. Draco smirked, glazing his gray hues over her just as he always did, stimulating a bad case of the cold sweats, shaky knees, goosebumps, chilled spine and heated face on her behalf. She swallowed the anxious lump that rested in her throat and reminded herself that she had kicked his arse, or rather, balls just several weeks before. She had the upper hand.

"Scared, Potter?" Draco taunted.

"...No, I am not," she returned defiantly.

They went off to their due positions.

"On the count of three, cast your charm to disarm your opponent, and ONLY disarm. We don't want any accidents here," Lockhart instructed. "One...two…"

"**Everte Statum**!"

Toni was spinning in the air before she could perceive what was going on.

'_Shitshitshitshit!'_

The solid table met her side expeditiously. She yelped out as a puff of wind was knocked from her, and her right side panged so much she could not stop tears from escaping her ducts. A high guffaw sounded from where Crabbe and Goyle were, giving Toni enough courage to pick herself up and zap one straight back at the blond cheat.

Taking steady aim, she cogently mimicked his curse and sent him flying just as he'd done her. More students had laughed at his fall than hers, and that in itself set her mood for the better. Snape took him by the back of his collar and brought him to his feet in one tenacious tug. As Draco took aim, Lockhart reminded him to disarm and only do that.

"Serpensortia!" he shouted, a lengthy black serpent to emerge from the tip of his wand and descend onto the surface below.

Something bizarre stirred in the witch with the materialization of that snake. She was attracted to it almost instantly, like the creature was the most captivating organism she'd ever witnessed. Stepping for it, her wand ready at her grip, she wasn't aware of what she was going to do, but this serpent had her in a subconscious hypnotic trance of some variant.

"Don't move, Potter," Snape commanded, striding forth. "I'll get rid of it for you."

"Allow me, Professor Snape!" the show-offy prof countered, taking aim for the viper. "Alarte Ascendare!"

The snake was sent up and came close to touching the ceiling before it slammed back down onto the table again. Uninjured, the serpent paid mind to a Hufflepuff boy, hissing as it slithered toward him. That bizarre sense possessed Toni's purposeful actions and she found herself stepping forward, murmuring incoherent gibberish, her eyes fixed on the snake. Her dialect was analog to what issued from the serpent. As she neared it, it faced her and communicated back, appearing to have recognized the hissy language.

"Vipera...Evanesca," Snape said, ridding the serpent with his spell. It seared away, turning to splintered ash over the surface. Meanwhile, Toni had snapped out of whatever had her when the victimized Huff make his overwrought suspicion vocal.

…

"I cried in the fourth floor's bathroom later on that day. I was so afraid of myself." Toni leant back into her seat and sighed. "I still have the ability. Parseltongue. I don't know if it'll ever go away."

"You speak as if it's a bad thing to have, like it's a disease," Fay said sadly. "It doesn't hinder your daily life, does it?"

"No...but for a long time I thought it would. God, I was just twelve. How was I to handle something like this? Heh, Hermione told me how rare the ability is after that presentation. She could have waited for another time; I was in a state of shock...Well, where was I? Erm, that memory. Voldemort speaks parseltongue, so I can because when he gave me this," Toni brushed her hair out of the way, "a part of his soul basically seeped in there…" She read Fay's disgruntled expression. "...I know...how do you think I feel? A part of that monster actually lives inside of me. To my knowledge, I've only inherited the quality of speaking to snakes from him." She smiled sweetly. "I'm not evil."

"No, no, you really aren't, Ant. I've—we've all seen what you've done. All of us students, well, most of us, I'd say. You're good; better than a lot of us, even. Susan told me about that league you had going last year. She said you were an incredible leader."

Toni squinted her eyes, thinking back, trying to remember if Fay was mixed in with her D.A. group. Susan Bones was one of the more mousy members, Toni recalled. Luna stood out in her memory as one of the more extroverted participants, as did Neville, Hermione, Ron, Cho and Alicia. She didn't remember seeing Fay around much during fifth year.

"Oh, do thank her. Yes, my army was working out beautifully until the Squad ambushed us...Wretched Poppins and her minions. Ugh, that was awful." Toni chose not to reflect on that day often. It was too disheartening. "Um, are you taking potions with Slughorn?"

"Yes, I am aspiring to be an auror, and the course is recommended along the way before training in that field."

"You know, I wanted to be an auror for a long time, ever since second year, but as of recently my ambitions have altered." She cast her sights outward in rumination. "I dunno. Lately I have been wishing to concoct and sell potions. I'll likely start working at Madam Primpernell's in Diagon Alley...I've got the war to prepare for over this year, though. So I need this dire memory of Slughorn and he's being stubborn. Albus has been cracking the whip on me to get the damn thing because he's been working at it for the last forty-five years or so with no avail." She scoffed. "How am I to get it? Horace may like me as one of his 'best' students, but I know he won't hand it over to me. Albus has me on this useless mission and I can't get out of it. There's one thing I'm upset about."

'_Do I mention Draco? Where would I begin with him?! It's so complex!'_

"...I am a victim of a bloke's perverted fixations. Don't get me started on that...Oh, I've still got to explain how I'm Slughorn's 'jewel'-"

"Who? Which bloke?" Fay interrupted excitedly.

The redhead was tempted to slap herself across the face for even bringing that up. There was no going back now.

"Draco...Malfoy," she mumbled. "Bugger won't leave me alone!" She downed a gulp of her sherry to ease her fiery nerves. "Way back when during first year I didn't shake his hand. You remember that? On the night we arrived? He did make a scene."

Fay nodded.

"He has a very big and annoying crush on me. Also, he's-"

'_NO! YOU CANNOT MENTION THE DARK MARK!' _her conscious howled.

"...He's incessant. He's - he's despicable! I loathe the loser. And he...he traps me. I try to keep out of this vortex he leaves for me. There's simply no staying out of his way. And I-I do try to cooperate with him, but he's just too impossible...He's biased, narcissistic and extremely haughty. I am not."

"...Well have ya notified the headmaster? I'm sure he could intervene," the brunette suggested.

"I'm not going to bother him with something like this. He has too much else to worry about. Besides, I'm in no real danger amid him for the time being. He's just an arse is all. A most contemptible git."

"So you two aren't dating?"

Toni threw her head back, snickering out loud at that. "GOD! Hell no! I'd date Crabbe before him!"

Fay chuckled. "I'm single myself. I was seeing someone from Durmstrang, but he wanted some things I wasn't ready to give him. He's a couple years older than us. That was a year ago."

"Men are pigs. It's a statistic," Toni said.

"Ha, I wasn't hoping to become that cynical until I'm at least forty."

"Eh, not all of them are greedy, though." She was referring to Neville. "Some are gentlemen."

.

.

.

Exiting the pub, the girls moseyed down High Street. The sun had sunk down past the shops' roofs around them with dusk on its way. Toni wobbled some here and there, having notoriously drunken herself drunk as per usual, while Fay had said she'd consumed no more than half a cup of alcohol in her seventeen years. Toni was astonished by this.

"How long've you been seventeen?" Toni asked as they neared the carriages.

"Since the eighth of December," she replied. "I can't wait to use magic outside of school this summer. I'm going to do the pettiest things with the privilege...Accio a dropped hair tie, or lumos whenever the lights are out. Oh, it'll be splendid."

"Pants random passersby, transfigure all of your vegetables into candy and Chianti," Toni giggled. "I've got to wait till the end of July, unfortunately." Toni pondered what else she could ask her new buddy. "What's your blood status?"

"Half-blood. My father is muggle-born. He was three years ahead of my mum when he went here during the mid sixties. He was a Ravenclaw. Mum was a Hufflepuff."

"Both my parents were in Gryffindor. My mother was muggle-born…" Toni went quiet, unwilling to speak on that subject. It always managed to sadden her greatly.

"I'm sorry for...what happened to them. It's outrageous. So tragic. I can't even imagine."

'_No, you couldn't,' _Toni meant to say, but didn't.

Fay stood roughly an inch taller than Toni and had a slimmer figure. In the hour they'd been conversing, Toni already felt some type of connection with this girl. Fay was respectful and calmly listened to Toni. She wouldn't chastise her when Toni would say something sordid that involved a bad choice she might have made, much unlike Hermione who generally had a cow whenever the redhead's confessions crossed a moral line, well, _her _moral line.

Fay had this tendency to smile more in a minute than Toni did in an hour. She had about as much sexual experience as a diehard nun, not because she was waiting for marriage necessarily, but just for 'the right bloke' like Toni.

"Say, you never told me about your bad day," Fay mentioned as they reached the carriages. "What occurred today that had you in tears and an enormous bottle of sherry?"

"Oh, that arse I told you about, Draco. He had me cooped up in there for almost an hour...What he told me...My mind's gone fuzzy. The sherry came in and helped me forget about him."

"That's not healthy, Antonia. You need to look to _people_ to sort out your fiascos. You don't want to turn into an alcoholic. My grandfather was one; really bitter and mean, right up till he died a few years ago."

"Well, I go to the Hog's Head all the time to tell the barman, Ab, about my problems. He's awesome. He listens to me, well, like you do. I can just piss and moan and he - he absorbs it! It's rejuvenating. Actually, I really don't drink all that much when I talk to him. I maybe have myself just a couple shots, depending on my mood." Remembering that Fay had said she'd had little booze in her life, Toni went on, "What were you doing in that place? You said you don't drink."

"Oh, Hannah brought me there last year on her birthday. Their apricot muffins are smashing. Sometimes I do homework in the back where you were. I like the ambiance; the low, atmospheric lighting and the quiet. The library is too full most of the time."

"Were you going to do homework in there today?" Toni asked warily, ashamed that her weeping probably robbed Fay of her focus.

"I was just going to finish up my essay for Ancient Runes. I'll get it done tonight. You looked like you could have used some company."

"...Yes. Um, thank you, Fay." She hadn't felt like this since she first befriended Luna at the start of fifth year. Opening herself up to others was something she didn't do frequently, mostly due to her gloomy circumstances that 'normal' people just wouldn't fathom.

She had her tome of a diary, the one she'd bought from Flourish &amp; Blotts before the start of her second year. It outsized all of her textbooks and had over eleven hundred pages in it, and by now it was half-way written through with her drabbles of the last four years, though she did not write in it everyday, but only when she had much on her mind to scribble down, like theories on what Draco's up to with that damn cabinet or what grunt work the head was forcing her through as of late.

Speaking of that damn cabinet, Toni had her heart and soul laid on storming up to the RoR to pay Draco a little visit. She would sneak in and watch him, just like she used to at the start of term. Interrogation wouldn't get her far, but she'd try a bit of that too just for kicks. How dare he take over a portion of her life without even enlightening her as to what was up with his own?! She'd had it. She would uncover the blatant truth.

However, Fay was best off keeping out of this for now...There was far too much to explain. Toni barely grasped the situation herself. Not to mention she didn't want to put her new pal in any harm. Draco would cause Fay pain if he so wanted. Toni couldn't allow that to happen. Much to her distress, she'd have to ditch her for a while once they got back to the castle. What she would excuse, she wasn't sure yet.

…

It was a dizzy ascend upstairs toward their common room. Fay giggled whenever Toni stumbled over a step, and she wouldn't hesitate to scold her on her 'unhealthy binge drinking.' The brunette was on the verge of wrapping her arm around the tipsy girl as they neared the top floor, but Toni got herself together when she reminded herself of the task at hand.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to part ways for a bit, Fay. Albus has requested that I perform a critical duty for him...much as I would rather not."

Fay rose a brow at that and frowned. "Where? Can I come? I won't be a bother. I promise."

The visual of Malfoy beating on her blue-eyed acquaintance put an immediate stopper in that potentiality.

"No! Er, Albus said I must act on his assignments confidentially...I've probably told you too much as it is." Toni turned on her heel with remorse. "Sit with me at dinner in an hour."

"Okay, bye, Ant," Fay said, as Toni was already far down the corridor.

.

.

.

Toni was not alone at the Room of Requirement's threshold. Two other girls, one Hufflepuff and one Slytherin, neither whom she knew too well, stood, their expressions hard and mean. Nonetheless, the redhead walked in between them to get to Draco by the cabinet on the other side of the room behind the mountain of junk.

"Pardon me," she said tersely, though either girl held onto her blouse, not letting her pass.

One coughed lowly. "You, uh, can't go on any further," she spoke, though her voice was fairly deep and masculine. Yet, it sounded so familiar.

Toni scoffed. "What? Did Draco hire you two bimbos to guard for him?"

"Leave now," the other girl ordered, her voice just as manly.

"OK, Draco knows me. We're not best friends, but we're really good enemies. I need to have a word with him, so please-"

"HE SAID TO NOT ALLOW ANYONE ACCESS!" the Hufflepuff girl roared.

"Shut up you two!" came Draco's holler from a ways off.

Toni shook her head, laughing impatiently at this nonsense. She tried to jerk herself out of their hold, but they were shockingly strong.

"Let go, you imbeciles!" she bit out.

"Do we hex her, Crabbe—uh! C-crystal?"

At first confused, Toni almost instantly caught on. She cracked up, unable to contain herself. Keeling over, she fought to produce coherent words.

"You - you two...polyjuice potion! Haha! HEY, DRACO! Your boys make for shitty girls! They're too dumb to pretend!" she shouted, laughing powerfully all the while. "You should have kept them in their usual forms! Then I would have been actually scared!"

"Fucking hell!" she heard him scorn as he grew closer.

In few instances before Toni had smiled in Draco's presence. Her cackling was persevering.

"Get out of here, both of you," the blond demanded either guard. He yanked Toni to him. "I thought I told you to meet me again later! You can't be in here!"

"I can be," she corrected in his face. "This isn't your territory. I thought it was _ours_," she added.

As Crabbelle and Goylette left the room, Draco's visage softened. He smirked smugly. "Plastered little woman. Had yourself a drink or five, hm?"

"Thirty-two ounces of sherry," she admitted coyly, varying greatly from her sober self. "You upset me again. I couldn't help it."

"Drunkard," he breathed along her lips. He pulled away abruptly. "As much as I'd love to ravish you right now, I can't. Run along. I have work to do. I'll be done soon enough. Just wait outside like a good girl."

"Quit with the patronizing! I didn't come up here to hang out with you!" She writhed out of his grip and jogged for that cabinet. "What's in there? What are you doing with this bloody thing?!"

"Potter!" He seized her and dragged her back toward the entrance. "Mind your own business, damn it! I won't lose all I've worked for because of your eavesdropping!"

"I WILL find out! I will! Or maybe I'll just destroy the stupid thingamajig! Put an end to your ludicrous plot!"

Against the nearest wall she went. Her chin was in his fingers and squeezed agonizingly. Draco was panting and red-hot in the face he was so infuriated. She involuntarily cowered, opposing her pride.

"Weak, piss-drunk and vulnerable _you are_, love! Don't torment me. I'm highly frustrated as it is, so your foolish persistence ceases now." His fingers wandered up to her nose and pinched fiercely. "Want me to break you pretty nose again?"

"One of my best friend's makes for an excellent healer! Do as you wish, man."

"Bitch," he groaned, too livid to even look at her anymore. Still huffing and all worked-up, his hands went around her head and dug into her tresses. "Brave little temptress. I once believed you truly belonged in my House, you know…" He chuckled, seeming to have loosened up. "Merlin, you don't."

"Are you e_fff_in' right about that," she replied.

"I'm going to have to boot you out now. But first, a kiss."

Before his words registered, his mouth claimed hers with the sloppy usage of his tongue, and then she was shoved through the threshold to appear back in the regular hallway, alone.

* * *

She was in no hurry to get to dinner, halfhearted and mopey as she was. When she arrived, she took her usual seat next to Hermione. Toni always sat facing the Great Hall's hearth. Early in her first year, she sat facing the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, but she'd swapped sides by her sixth day into the school year when Draco's everlasting ogling at her unsettled her quite enough.

"Hi," she yawned Hermione's way, her head about to crash into her palm for the billionth time that day. Her eyes were narrowed, about to close when she spotted Dobby and Winky gathered around the hearth beyond the Hufflepuff table. Dobby summoned her over with his elongated and bony arm.

.

.

.

_Reminisce: Summer of 1992 - Meeting Dobby_

"Third time this week! If you can't control that owl, it'll have to go!" Vernon yelled at the top of his lungs.

Cher had been hooting more than what the uncle could let slide, but what else was the ruddy bird to do when she was prohibited from spreading her wings outdoors?

"She's bored, Uncle Vernon! She's cooped up in here around the clock for goodness sake! If you'll just let me set her free for a bit outside, then she'll wear-out some," Toni reasoned, to be returned a scarlet colored grimace.

"Do I look stupid? I know what'll happen if I let that owl out!"

The girl thought pithily to argue back, but decided against it. It would have been fruitless…

"PASS ME THE BACON!" Dudders boomed in Toni's right ear. It rang afterwards.

"Say the magic word first, Dudley," she negotiated.

A piercing shriek escaped her heavy cousin as he tumbled out of his chair and onto the floor, shaking the whole kitchen with the impact of his weight. Aunt Petunia slapped her across the face and Uncle Vernon stood so fast that his massive, drooping stomach had jolted the dining table.

"I-I didn't mean it like that! I was implying that he should say ple-"

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU?!" Vernon thundered, showering her and Petunia with spittle. "I HAVE TOLD YOU HUNDREDS OF TIMES NOT TO USE THE 'M' WORD IN THIS HOUSE! DARE YOU THREATEN MY BOY?!"

"Uncle-"

"I WARNED YOU THAT I WILL NOT TOLERATE THAT ABNORMALITY OF YOURS UNDER THIS ROOF!"

"I-I'm sorry!" she stuttered as veins throbbed in Vernon's plump neck. "I promise I'll never say it again, okay?"

Petunia had just succeeded in heaving the stunned child back up into his seat. Vernon fell back down into his own chair, making the kitchen dance once more, and more violently than with Dudley's collision to the floor.

"...Right then, let us re-locate our focus to the former discussion." Vernon turned to Petunia. "Today is a very important day."

'_Lord! Has he actually remembered my birthday?!' _Toni mused in disbelief. So far, none of them had said anything to her regarding her big day, not that they usually did anyway.

"This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career," Vernon continued contently.

The twelve-year-old didn't roll her eyes for the life of her. Staying up in her bedroom with Cher was perhaps a superb birthday gift in itself. Heck, she was happy to not partake in that night's dinner party with her uncle's dull bosses.

"Let's run through the schedule again. We should all be in our positions by eight o'clock tonight. Petunia, you will be…?"

"In the lounge," her aunt answered promptly, "waiting to welcome them graciously to our home."

"Yes, yes, now, Dudley?"

"I'll be waiting to open the door," Dudley replied with a simper. "May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"

"Nice, Dudley, nice, now, _Antonia_," Vernon addressed with a growl. "Where will you be?"

"Up in my bedroom, not making a peep," she responded smoothly.

"Exactly," he confirmed with curt vitriol. "I will lead them into the lounge," he glanced at his wife, "introduce you, Petunia, and pour them drinks. At eight fifteen-"

"I'll announce dinner!" Petunia chirped.

"Dudley, you'll say?"

"May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Mason?" the chubby kid confirmed, holding out his stocky arm to the invisible woman.

"My perfect little gentleman!" Petunia cheered, clapping.

"And you?" he snarled at the redhead.

"Still up in my bedroom, making absolutely no noise at all," she asserted.

"Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. Darling, any ideas?"

"Vernon tells me you're a wonderful golfer, Mr. Mason," she suggested.

"Great...Dudley?"

"How about: 'We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about _you_.'"

"Oh, my genius little boy!" Petunia exclaimed rapturously, while Toni excused herself to the restroom so she could laugh in privacy.

Vernon gave her a vexed look when she returned.

"The Masons don't know anything about you, Potter, and it's going to _stay_ that way." He looked back over at Petunia. "When dinner's over, you will take Mrs. Mason back to the lounge for coffee. Then, I'll bring the subject round to drills. With any luck, I'll have the deal signed and sealed before the News at Ten." He bared his rounded molars in a broad grin. "We'll be shopping for a holiday home in Majorca this time tomorrow. Now, I'm off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for Dudley and I." Glinted, narrowed eyes were again on her. "And _you_ best stay out of your aunt's way while she's cleaning."

Toni nodded obediently. She advanced for the lawn and sat with her legs crossed in the grass. She sobbed, something she hadn't done for _this_ reason since she was six.

'_Oh! They recall the dinner party like their lives depend on it, but the burden child doesn't exist, or so they'd prefer, so why wish her a happy birthday, let alone keep such a date in mind!'_

"Idiots!" she muttered, soaking her palms with her tears. She also had the lack of returned letters to be depressed about. Why hadn't Ron or Hermione written her back? '_Have they tired of me? Did I do something wrong?'_ she considered, the tears surfacing with more force the more she obsessed on the matter.

Her gaze rested on the bushes to momentarily stare straight into two huge emerald eyes. She flinched, blinking rapidly to ensure her sanity. Those eyes were very real, and they didn't go away until hefty footsteps approached.

"I know what day it is!" her tubby cousin sang in a taunting tone. "_I know what day it is!_"

She would have been more flattered had she not seen those weird eyes… "So you remembered," she mumbled.

"How come you haven't gotten any cards? Haven't you even got friends at that freak place?"

'_Do I?'_

"Yes," she grumbled. "A lot more than you, fatty."

"WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?" he screeched loudly from directly behind her.

She spun around. "Leave me alone! I came out here to keep out of your mum's way and to be by myself! So waddle off!"

"You've been crying," he pointed out, noticing the pink tinge in her puffy eyes. "Crying because you aren't loved," he sneered.

Now that really hurt, almost to the extent of bringing her physical pain.

"SHUT UP!" she hissed, swatting at his bloated right knee. "You're just like Vernon! So big and so cruel!"

"YOU shut up or else I'll tell mum!" he warned.

"Go ahead," she permitted defeatedly. "I'm already grounded on an endless basis."

He didn't move.

"Why are you staring at the bushes?"

"I thought I saw something peculiar…" She smirked. "You ought to trot along now or else I will cast a nasty spell on you."

"You - you wouldn't! Dad'll toss you out to the streets if you do!" he stammered, riled up to her liking.

"Abracadabra! Whisk! Whoosh! Flickety flick! Hocus Pocus!" she chanted, waving her arms wildly in the air for emphasis. "I'm an actual, real witch, Duds! I'm going to hex you now-"

"MUUUUUUM!" Dudley screamed, practically crawling to the back porch, consumed with horror. "ANTONIA'S DOING M-M-MAG-G-GIC! SHE THREATENED ME!"

"Oh God!" she whispered, her insides tightening up as her aunt briskly strutted out, a soapy frying pan at hand and a grim scowl upon her long face. "Crap!"

She scrambled up and bolted across the lawn as Petunia pursued her with that iron weapon slash cooking appliance. The mien her aunt wore was one of pure venom. It sent a chill down the girl's spine, well, multiple chills. Oh, how Petunia's appearance differed so extensively from her late sister's. She was ugly even when she smiled.

"Little brat! Intimidating my own flesh and blood after how specific your uncle was on reminding you otherwise!"

"Have a sense of humor, Aunt Petunia! I was only kidding around with him!" Toni debated as the aunt swung that pan, thankfully missing her. Petunia's attenuated fingers clamped onto the girl's right ear and she stormed inside, hauling her along.

"You might as well be dropping the F bomb around here! Your brain must be the size of a chestnut!" she barked, pushing her into the closet, the very one Toni had grown ridiculously familiar with by the age of five alone. "Get to cleaning. I want this place spic and span by seven o'clock! That means tending to the windows, the car, the garden, the lawn, the kitchen floor, and the flowerbeds need pruning and trimming...repaint that bench in the garden while you're at it as well."

She marched off, leaving the witch to curse under her breath and get to work.

…

She was resting her aching back and massaging at the sunburnt nape of her neck by the time the Masons had arrived. She lamented some more over her godawful twelfth birthday and kept her eyes shut, hoping to drift off to sleep and move past all this.

Her ever moaning stomach craved better nutrition than the piece of burnt toast touched with stale jam and three sips of cranberry juice it was gifted. Toni snorted at what lovely birthday dinner she had. Well, at least she'd be keeping her trim figure…

"Damn this life," she sighed shakily, just as her closet's door flung open—for something to topple out. She sat up with an alert deer's grace, locking her wet eyes on a petite, extremely slender creature of some sort. Its ears were vast, stretching out bigger than its face and they were bat-like, and those tennis ball sized green eyes...She'd seen him just earlier that day.

Toni goggled the creature in amazement as he bowed, his narrow and lengthy nose touching the carpet. It was donning what seemed to be a potato sack or an old and stained pillowcase, ripped into for arm and legs holes.

"Um…" She was speechless.

"Antonia Potter!" the creature squealed in a high-pitched voice. She cringed, fearing the yip had traveled through the house. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, madam. Such an honor it is."

"...O-kay. Thank you…" she replied uneasily as she got out of bed. "Who are you?"

"Dobby, just Dobby, madam. Dobby the house-elf."

"Mmhm...that's a cute name, er, Dobby...Hey, as much as I'd really enjoy your company, now is not a good time...Why are you here anyways?"

Dobby's facade saddened. "Dobby is not sure how to express such news, madam; such unpleasant news...Dobby wonders where to begin…"

"Oh dear," she said. "Has someone I know from the wizarding world passed away?" she asked cautiously, gripping her left forearm.

"Oh no, madam! Nobody has fallen ill, Dobby assures you. Dobby has come with less severe news than such, yet it is still bad for Antonia Potter."

She frowned, dabbing at the drying tears on her cheeks and around her eyes. "Won't you have a seat?" she offered.

"A-a seat?!" the elf croaked. "D-dobby has never been asked something so kind! Never ever has Dobby...Oh, never!"

"Shh! Hey, I didn't mean to offend you, Dobby! You need to try to be a little more quiet, alright? My aunt and uncle have guests downstairs," she coaxed, kneeling down to sit at the short elf's stance.

"Offend? Goodness, no, Miss Potter! Dobby has never been asked to have a seat by a witch or wizard...like an equal…"

"Wow, um, that's not fair…" she mumbled, taking his frail, disproportioned hand in her own which was smaller. "You may sit on my bed."

Instead, he scurried over to her window and banged his head against it—again and again—making enough clamor to silence all conversation downstairs.

"Oh, no, Dobby! What - what are you doing?!"

Cher gave one of her blaring hoots from within her cage at the commotion. Slightly cross-eyed and feeble, the elf staggered up to Toni's bed and took his seat.

"Dobby had to punish himself, miss. Dobby almost spoke ill of his family. Dobby is a house-elf, bound to serve one house and one family forever."

"Oh? What family? They know you're here, right?" she asked.

"Oh, no, madam! The Malfoys still believe Dobby to be in their home. Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, madam. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, madam-"

"The Malfoys?!" Toni spat. '_Draco's going to __**get it **__when I get back to school!'_ "Okay, I don't want you to do...that. There's no need to inflict yourself in such a...violent way. Besides, won't they notice the burns?" she asked.

"Dobby doubts it, madam. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, madam. They lets Dobby get on with it, madam. Sometimes they reminds Dobby to do extra punishments."

"What bastards!" Toni groaned. "You must escape, Dobby. Don't put up with any of that abuse any longer."

"No, madam! A house-elf must be set free, madam. The Malfoys will never set Dobby free. Dobby will serve the family until he dies, madam."

"God...I thought I had it bad here with my negligent guardians. Eh, could anything be done to fix this? Could I-"

The elf was wailing. It had to echo.

"Shh! Dobby, for - for Christ's sake! The Dursleys can't know you're in here!"

"Antonia Potter asks if she could help Dobby...Dobby has heard of your greatness, madam, but your goodness...Dobby never knew."

Toni frowned again. "But I'm not great. I mean, it's Hermione who's top in my year…" Thinking about Hermione disappointed her.

"Antonia Potter is humble and modest. Antonia Potter speaks not for her triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Don't be shy to speak his name. Voldemort feeds off of fear-"

"Ah! Not speak the name! Speak not the name!"

"Ron was offended by it too…" She couldn't ponder him for long either.

Dobby leaned towards Toni, his eyes as wide as headlights. "Dobby heard Antonia Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago...that Antonia Potter escaped yet again!"

"...Yeah," she nodded, getting the elf to shed fresh tears.

"Ah, madam," he gasped, "Antonia Potter is valiant and bold! She has braved so many dangers already! Dobby has come to protect Antonia Potter, to warn her, even if Dobby does have to shut his ears in the oven door later...Antonia Potter _must not _go back to Hogwarts."

She shook her head. "Um, no, Dobby...I am going back. Hogwarts...It's where I belong. This place...staying here with these people...It's hell. I'm going back on the first of September. I'm far better off in your world."

"No, no, no! Antonia Potter must stay where she is safe! She is too great, too good, to lose. If Antonia Potter goes back to Hogwarts, she will be in mortal danger."

"...Why?"

"There is a plot, Antonia Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," Dobby whispered, quivering like a leaf in the wind. "Dobby has known it for months, madam. Antonia Potter must not put herself in peril. She is too important, madam!"

"Please, just call me Toni, okay? And what exactly are you getting at here? What terrible things?" she pressed on urgently. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby commenced his ritual wall head-bang, and much noise ensued.

"STOP IT! Um!" She made a grab at the elf's wispy wrist to yank him back. "You're forbidden to say...Fine, then, but what's your point in even warning me about this?" A nauseating realization struck her then. "Does your message have to do with Volde—erm, I mean, You-Know-Who? Just nod or shake your head."

He shook his head. "No, not, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, mad—Toni."

The creature's wide, horrified eyes gave Toni a negative inkling. "I'm really pretty confused here...I can't think of anybody else besides the Dark Lord who could bring me any real danger. Not to mention Headmaster Dumbledore will probably keep things in check...You know Professor Albus Dumbledore, don't you?"

He nodded. "Albus Dumbledore is the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, Toni. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, Toni," he hushed himself, "there are powers Dumbledore doesn't...powers no decent wizard…" He stopped, and rushed over to the girl's desk to snatch her desk lamp—to beat it over the top of his head with ear-splitting yelps.

No sound could be heard from downstairs, leaving Toni just about traumatized enough to climb out of her window and fall into the bushes below. Moments later, she heard the familiar thuds of Uncle Vernon—moving frighteningly quick up the stairs.

"Dudley must have left his television on again! The little tyke!" he called downstairs from just outside of the redhead's door.

"In here, Dobby!" she rasped, carrying the elf to her closet and pushing him inside—just as her velvet-faced uncle barged in. That expression, used to it as she was, still managed to terrify her out of her wits.

"**What. The. Devil. Are. You. Doing**?!" inquired Vernon in a drawled-out mutter. He looked as if he were about to go into cardiac arrest. The whole of his humongous being was on fire, veins twitching, sweat streaming down his forehead and all. "You've just ruined the punchline of my Japanese golfer joke! One more sound and you'll wish you were never born, girl!"

Her door slammed shut swiftly and hard enough to quake the room. Trembling madly, Toni opened up her closet to let Dobby out.

"That was too close, pal," she breathed, her arms covered in goosebumps. "You see what hell it is here? At least I've got friends at Hogwarts who make me feel happy."

"Friends who don't even write to Antonia Potter?" spoke the elf slyly.

It felt like someone had pressed her face against a warming stove burner. "Well, I think that maybe they've been busy...But...how did you know?" She narrowed her eyes at him as he cowered some.

"Antonia Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best," he explained.

The truth had rammed into her system like a freight train. "You - you stole their letters to me?"

"Dobby has them here, madam!" He retrieved a wad of envelopes from the inside of his worn pillowcase. Toni recognized Hermione's tidy penmanship on one letter, Ron's chicken scratch on another, and even Hagrid's jagged scribbling on another.

"Dobby!" she gasped, irritably, "why—how could you?"

"Antonia Potter mustn't be angry. Dobby hoped...if Antonia Potter thought her friends had forgotten her...Antonia Potter might not want to go back to school, madam."

"You can't be serious!" she screeched, reaching out to take what was hers. Dobby hid them behind his back and stepped away from her, shaking his noggin.

"Antonia Potter will have them, if she gives Dobby her word that she will not return to Hogwarts! Madam, there is danger you must not face! Say you won't go back!"

"NO!" she cried softly. "If there's danger, then I'll brave it! That's what I've been doing all my life anyway! Now give me those! You have no right to claim them!"

"Antonia Potter leaves Dobby no choice." The elf scampered to her door, yanked it open, and darted down the stairs in fleeting moments.

"Dobby! Come back!" she pleaded, tiptoeing hurriedly out of her bedroom and down the flight.

At the bottom, from the nearby living room, she heard Vernon say, "Tell Petunia that very funny story about those American plumbers, Mr. Mason. She's been dying to hear."

She skipped on her tiptoes down the hall, and her heart paused in its beating when she saw her aunt's masterpiece of a pudding, the pile of cream and sugared violets, floating up by the ceiling. Dobby was crouching atop a cupboard in the corner.

"Hey, now…" Toni croaked. "Please, Dobby...they'll murder me...Kick me out of the house…"

"Antonia Potter must say she won't go back to the school…"

"Oh, please, Dobby." Tears were again running down her cheeks. She felt like vomiting her chest was so compressed.

"Say it, miss."

"I-I can't!"

Authentic sympathy etched his features. "Then Dobby must do it, madam, for Antonia Potter's own good."

"But! I'll still go to Hogwarts even if you do this! There's no - no point in even-"

The pudding plummeted just outside the area where the Dursleys and the Masons were seated. Cream coated the walls and two windows, and the dish the dessert formerly rested on was shattered about the kitchen's floor. The elf had vanished.

Toni virtually blacked out when she heard her uncle stomping forth.

.

.

.

Toni stepped out from the table just as Fay showed up.

"I was just in the library. How did that uh, task go?" Fay asked.

"Oh, good enough, I guess. Hey, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Toni led her over to the fireplace where Dobby and his girlfriend waited. Hand in hand, the elves stood, Winky's belly protruding out some, significantly more so than the last time Toni had seen her, that being months earlier when the elf was sickly thin and had herself a bit of a butterbeer addiction.

"Hello, Dobby, sweetie," Toni greeted, getting down on her knees to hug her little pal, then Winky. Toni had a strong hunch, but her suspicions weren't confirmed until Dobby said, "We're expecting, Miss Antonia Potter!"

"Oh, Merlin, that's adorable!" Fay announced, a hand over her mouth in surprise.

Toni embraced the female elf then. "Congratulations, loves! When are you due, Winky?"

"Three months, miss," she chimed in her usual soft and soothing chirp. "We found out just over a month ago...Been so busy, we hadn't much time to come visit you's with the news."

Tears brimmed Toni's eyes. "That's wonderful, honey. I'm so proud for you both. You're going to make a lovely family."

"Any names in mind?" Fay inquired.

"Yes, miss," Winky cooed. "If it's a girl, we name her Bitty, and a boy we shall name after his father." She gave her partner a loving look.

"Yes, we've found a flat that houses elves out in the village of Cuffley. We plan to raise our young there, madam," Dobby said.

She sniffled, becoming more emotional by the tick. "Let me go fetch Hermione and Gin. They'll want to see you guys."

She got up and headed for the Gryff table, now legitimately gleeful as actual, beautiful adrenaline flowed through her being. Such feelings hadn't been with her in so long. Seeing little Dobby and his girlie like that...seeing that Dobby the free house-elf was going to be a _daddy_!

Toni was overwhelmingly pleased for the first time that year.


	23. The L Word

_*There is a line of Spanish in this chapter. I used Google translate, so if you notice anything slightly off, do try to overlook it. It might just be a word or two anyway. I'm not sure how reliable GT is. _

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three  
_The L Word_**

_Reminisce: Fall of 1991 - The First Flying Lesson_

Toni stood beguiled at the end of the line of students as she watched their flight instructor come in between them. Her eyes were catlike with their yellowish tinge and enlarged pupils. It was like she had been wearing special contact lenses.

"Good afternoon, class!" the teacher welcomed with something akin to strict precision.

"Good afternoon, Madam Hooch," the kids replied with a hint of tension.

"Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well? What are you all waiting for? Everyone step up to the left side of your broom. Come on, hurry up."

Each student did as they were told. Toni had always thought the idea of being a witch and flying a broomstick just like in movies and folklore was pretty cool, but facing such an activity in reality awakened some uncertainty. Turning out to be a magical girl alone was hard to swallow, so this just seemed too fanciful…

"Stick your right hand over the broom and announce a precise 'up!'" Hooch directed.

As a heap of "up"s sounded from all around her, Toni giggled at the whole concept. She'd yet to fully grasp this world and the odd components in it. She played along, keeping her concentration on that bent up wooden traditional cleaning device, ultimately repeating the word over ten times before it shifted just a touch in the grass. A hyper spark of thrill found itself within her at her so-far measly success. Another eight or so confident proclamations would levitate the stick almost up to her knee, however, since her focus was so unsteady, she struggled to raise her broom any higher than that. She shrugged this off, still quite content with her paltry progress.

"Blimey!" Ron yawped from his place next to her after his broom went rogue and thwacked his forehead forcefully.

"Your broom doesn't like you, Ron," Toni chuckled.

"Yeah, well...yours isn't warming up to you either," he observed.

"It's just being a little stubborn is all," she said.

"Alright," Hooch broke in. "Once you've got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it. Be sure to grip it _tight_. You don't want to be slipping off the end."

Advancing on left Toni nervous, but she imitated what everyone else was doing. She calmed down when she realized she wasn't the only one alien to this. She took comfort in thinking about how her new friend and roommate, Hermione Granger, had grown up in the muggle world, so she herself was, without a doubt, a tad chary of doing this too.

"When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, lean forward slightly, then touch back down. On my whistle...three, two-"

One of the boys, Neville Longbottom, was ahead of everybody already, being four feet above the ground rather quick. Hooch scolded him to get back down, but he was having notable difficulty in doing so. Toni recognized the fear and shock etched in his chubby face, and wished she could do something to help him out.

Before anyone really knew it, he was shooting upwards and spinning wildly without any control. Hooch paraded around under him to her best ability, but the boy was all over the yard in a speedy frenzy. Toni felt her heart lull when he crashed into the castle's walling about five times before zooming past a statue on the roof and getting his robes caught at the pointed end of the staff it was holding. He hung from his cloak briefly before it ripped and sent him falling a great distance, to have his plunge subdued for not a couple seconds by an erected, unlit torch, to finally land roughly on his side.

Toni panicked internally as Hooch cleared the way to storm for the injured boy. A sigh escaped her as Hooch led him off the pitch with what was likely a broken wrist, but his legs appeared able at least. She sternly warned them not to cruise the sky unless they wanted to meet expulsion.

One boy with platinum, slicked hair let this restriction go right over his head.

"Did ya see his face? Maybe if the fat lump would've given _this_ a squeeze, he would have remembered to fall on his fat arse."

Toni seethed at how her callous classmate had gotten the crowd laughing at his poor jeer. She brushed through a handful of students to confront him. She took a liking to the sweet and naive Gryffindor boy and refused to ignore such harassment.

"Don't be so cruel," she said hotly after prodding her index finger at Draco's back to gain his attention. He turned around, and upon resting his sights on her, his expression softened temporarily. "At least he's not _all _arse like you are," she added assertively. The kids gave their round of dramatic "ooh"s at her statement while Draco battled with himself to create a grand comeback.

"I was born into power, you clueless broad. I can do whatever I want to whomever I please, and that includes the tubby, simpleminded pussy."

"Hand that over right now, Draco," she ordered, alluding to Neville's remembrall.

"No. I think I'll give that pea-brained sloth something to find," he replied, now not only on his broom but in the air with it as well. He rotated amid them, then flew for the clouds while declaring, "How about the roof?" Draco was over forty feet up before he swiveled around and called, "If you care about the dork so much, Potter, then you'll come up here and fetch this for him!"

Going for the challenge made her queasy, but she had to show this prat that she was no coward. As she trembled to position herself adequately on her broom, Hermione advised that she keep obedient to Hooch's demand.

"I'll be back down before she returns, and if not, then _both_ he and I will be in for it anyway," the redhead reasoned.

With her hold secure enough, she gulped as she willed herself to rise and be brave. The years of living under the Dursleys amoral treatment had embedded fainthearted instincts, not to mention she was more on the clumsy side to begin with.

Unbeknownst to whether or not grace and fluent agility was required of this pursuit, she carried on nonetheless, ending up just six feet above ground level. Giving an uneven exhale, she glimpsed at Malfoy who was still _so_ high and off in the distance. Looking down was a huge mistake because it just heightened her fright, and not herself.

Not a peep went aloud while Toni was air bound, but Draco hooted down at Toni when she went no higher than she was. She came up to where Hagrid's nose was, she guessed, and when she did try to fly outward to meet Draco, she dropped suddenly, hitting the ground with precipitated rapidity, much to the Slytherin's amusement.

Some made fun of the fallen witch while others lent her a hand. Her back may have been sore all through that week, but at least she wasn't set to suffer through five weeks' detention along with her prideful enemy.

.

.

.

Neville placed his girlfriend's legs over his lap as they rested on their common room's couch. This was okay, as was the peck he'd given her just minutes before. His arms slackened over her shins.

"So when Professor Sprout leant over to help Dean, her bottom was _right there_...I just kept my fingers crossed that she wouldn't pass gas at any given moment."

"Haha! My...she didn't, did she?" Toni giggled.

"No," he chortled. "Her posterior was awful close, though. It was an awkward two minutes."

"So, what were you guys working on? Essays or something?"

"We're doing our treatises on popular botanical remedies of the early nineteenth century. I've selected the belladonna root. When combining aconite, you get this ointment that grants you levitation without the need of a broomstick. Hehe, I could recant most of my thesis right here, or I could go and grab it quickly and read it to you."

"Oh, that's fine, Neville…" Toni said, saving herself from an achingly boring hour or so. "I'll read it once it's graded. I'm sure it'll get a top mark. You're so brilliant with herbology."

A salmon tinge filled in Neville's cheeks. "Just as you have a knack for acing potions, sweetheart."

Her heart's rate accelerated and her stomach leapt at that rather benevolent sobriquet. Draco had called her _sweetheart_ one too many times. It was gallingly incredible how that lone word could summon the much unwanted image of the foe. He had ruined oodles for her already, must she be cruelly reminded of him when with her boyfriend too?

"Thanks…" she mumbled.

Neville didn't look at her then, he scrutinized her over. He didn't remove his sights from her for a second. He was now staring at her in a way he never had before, and it was making Toni quite antsy. It was akin to what leer Draco gave her constantly, but softer, more human and tender. It was almost comforting.

"You know I'd always had a crush on you, Toni, ever since I first met you in our first year. I was too shy then. I could only glimpse at you here and there. I couldn't pick up the nerve to say anything to you." He grinned, massaging her socked feet in his hands. "Thank Merlin I finally stepped up...Asked you out. I didn't really date any other girls. I waited...for you." He signaled her to scoot up closer to him with his index finger. Toni did while flashbacking to that day over a month earlier when Draco did the same thing in the library. Neville embraced her as she laid against him. Lining her cheek with kisses up to her ear, he murmured, "I...I love you, Antonia."

Her breathing hitched in her chest. Each neuron kindled as a glob of bile rose up her throat. She went rigid instantaneously. While she was on the brink of unbinding what romantic relationship they'd had, those three words were dreaded at a maximum. No...no. Why did he have to say that?

She couldn't return them. She sat against him quietly. Minutes came and went. Both were uncomfortable on some level, slight regret having Neville, and uncertainty having Toni.

She planted a friendly smooch on his forehead. "I'll see you later, Neville."

She was out of common room before Neville had even realized it.

* * *

Having a prefect friend came in handy, especially when one was in extraordinary need of a big, luxurious bath. Toni was terse in asking Hermione what the password to the special bathroom was, and while the muggle-born told her what it was, she showed her concern simultaneously. By now she had reckoned that Toni only took baths when her psyche was a sty. Soaking in the tub soothed the redhead's fraught contemplations. As shot as her nerves were, she kept out of her diminishing stashes way. She had to think clearly. She swam to and fro in this pool of a bath in deep thought.

'_He's attractive...but I don't want his dick in me...'_

Toni had always been particularly picky. She assumed she had the sex drive of a toothpick.

Remus and that heavenly yet cursory kiss flooded her muse.

'_I'm quite attracted to Remus...bad and weird as I feel about it.'_ She sighed in frustration. Love was arduous. '_I can't do this to him! Neville deserves much better than me! He deserves someone who will actually want him and his privates!'_

"Oh, bother!" she groaned, pounding her fists into the bubbly water, making a splash, just as she had done in the Dursleys tub when she was little.

"What's the matter, Annie? Trouble in paradise?" chimed Myrtle, her see-through head sticking out of the bubbles.

"What paradise?!" Toni huffed. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd prefer to be in solitude, dearie."

"But I haven't a mind anymore!" the spirit girl reasoned. "We haven't spoken in a _while_ too...And I see you're without your alcohol, meaning you won't yell at me drunkenly like you did last time!"

"Ugh!" Toni wanted to tear at her hair to blow off some steam. "Myrtle, you wouldn't understand the basics of my troubles, okay? I'm under much pressure. I can scarcely take it."

"Talk to me, Annie! Tell me about it! I understand more than you think!" Myrtle floated towards her. "When you die, all this knowledge swarms into your hypothetical brain. You acknowledge everything."

Toni's eyes widened. "You do?"

Myrtle smiled. "The universe presents itself to you for what it really is. I understand a world more than you, whether you like it or not."

"Do you know all the languages? Can you speak Spanish or Dutch at my request?" the witch challenged.

"Sí, puedo," Myrtle gave. "Puedo ver que el amor que es preocupante."

"Um, so what does that mean?"

"I can see that love is troubling you," Myrtle answered using more sympathy than she ever had before with Toni. "You're crying over your ignorance. You love _this_ He, but this _other_ He loves you and the _other_ other He loves you too. It's driving you totally bonkers, isn't it?"

"You - you know there are three men? Three I'm fretting over?" Toni said in shock.

"Moony, Widebum and that nasty Slytherin boy. Yes, I can see. I can see so much. I can see who you're going to lose your virginity to. I can see who you're going to have your first widdle baby with, and at what age," Myrtle said offhandedly.

Toni shook her head in disbelief. "No...no way."

"Yes way, Annie."

"Do - do you see when I'm going to die?" Toni blurted, sitting straight up, staring wide-eyed and very intently at the transparent girl.

"Yes," Myrle said playfully.

"God, is it Voldemort who's going to do it? Kill me?"

"I won't say. I'm forbidden to by the Gods of the afterlife. Any detail too intricate can redo the future drastically. I'm being careful. Just playing with your rowdy and spooked head."

"Myrtle...the man I first have sex with...is he one of the three men?"

"I shan't s_aaaa_y," cooed the ghost mockingly.

"But—I won't be able to guess! Well, Draco's obviously impossible…" She nodded to herself enthusiastically. "I'd sacrifice a dove before sleeping with him."

"Don't be so insightful, Annie Mary. You suck terribly at it."

Toni's insides lurched. "What...what do you mean by that?"

Myrtle tittered. "Whoops! That's all I've got to say on that!"

"Dammit, Myrtle!" Toni growled through gritted teeth. "What. Are. You. Getting. At?"

"Take a hint," Myrtle said. "Take your life one step at a time. Do you truly want to know when you're going to die? Do you really want to know who you're going to grow old with? Who's gonna daddy your young? I could narrate your upcoming days from this moment forth if I REALLY wanted to, but for your own sake, I wont.

"Oh, but Myrtle! Why did you even tell me then?! Now I'm going to obsess over this!" She submerged herself momentarily, drenching her hair. "You aren't lying though? I _am_ going to be a mother one day?"

Myrtle nodded lightly, fumbling with her incorporeal hands. "Rather young too, I might add."

The witch gasped audaciously. "MY! Um, how young? I have to know now! Before twenty?"

"I've enlightened you to too much already!" Myrtle narrowed her eyes at her. "Out of your teenage years, albeit a wee bit. Now, that is all I'm going to say."

Toni wasn't sure whether to be ecstatic or iffy about this. She prattled on nevertheless.

"...Boy or girl?"

"Eeee-nough! It's your turn to speak, Annie. I want you to tell me about your woes and boo-hoos."

"You can apparently already see them clear as day, love," Toni sighed.

"Yes, but I want to hear it from you. I know how you adore bragging about your problems."

Toni scowled. "Quit it! I'm not a damn book! Stop reading me like I am one! I have to figure out these things for myself anyway. I'm definitely old enough. I ought to start making my own decisions. I'm always practically handing Ab my mind...I don't let 'Mione or Ron in on anything, nor Neville for that matter. They're my friends. I'm supposed to tell them about this stuff, bad as a lot of it is. Heck, I think I've told Fay more of what's gone down in the last five months than Ron or 'Mione, and I've known them for so much longer...it's kind of senseless…"

"That's because the Dunbar girl relates to you in more ways, Antie Rose. You two are more alike. Think about it. Hermione makes for a swell companion, but her overt smarts and judgmental tendencies can be irksome, and Ron...well, he's just some ucky boy, some simpleton ginger who's never said a whole bunch to you in the first place...Along comes Fay-bee to deprive you of your moping and poof! She's your guide. She won't judge you or outsmart you or-"

"I don't care about Hermione's 'smarts', Myrtle! She's just...she can be strict with me. I make choices sometimes that she doesn't quite accept."

"And so you have high hopes that Fay-bee and you will be best, best friends."

Toni slackened down somewhat as that statement slapped her as rational.

"In these times you look to new people to whine to. Granger and the weasel boy have grown out of your interest."

"No, I wouldn't go that far, Myrtle. I can make new friends. There's no crime in that."

"Sure, Annie, if you say so...Ooh, what's this I see about a mysterious cabinet and a just as mysterious handsome young man with white-blond hair?"

"I don't want to talk about that...or him," Toni sighed.

"He's all over your wild brain, isn't he? He really sticks out, you know. I don't even have to peek in so much."

"Peek..._peek_ in? What? What the hell are you doing? How much of...how much can you see of my mind?"

"I can see anything and everything, Ant. Isn't that what your other Gryffindor girlfriend calls you?" Myrtle basked in her own silly condition of giddiness. "Oh, I do feel sorry for you, Annie. You've heaps to sort out."

"Yes...I guess the one sweet thing about being dead is that you have nothing more to worry about, right? You're free. What I don't understand is why you stay here...in this fast-degenerating castle. What, with the war coming up...I fear only the worst. Why don't you move on? Isn't there a heaven or something?"

Myrtle's demeanor had changed. Her expression went more stoic as she cascaded down to waft in the bath. "When I first passed away, there was a great, huge light I saw, not so far off. I was offered this glow. I didn't hear anything...No one came to chaperone me over...not even my great grandmother. I didn't know what laid beyond that light. I got too scared. I stayed here, where it felt safe." She gave a jittery sigh. "I haven't seen that light since then; only the darkness within these walls.

"Oh…" Toni didn't know what to say at that. She felt sick. "Really? Have you tried to…?" As the ghost floated beside her, Toni yearned to put her arm around her non-physical shoulder, to take this decades-suffering girl into an embrace. "Have you looked? Or traveled outside of the castle? Perhaps you could ask one of the other ghosts here...Nick, or Binns...um, probably not Peeves…"

"We dead people prefer to keep to ourselves, as well as the places we died in. Besides, if they knew anything, they would have already skedaddled years ago. As glorious as this school is, no one would want to be stuck here for all eternity."

"I'm so sorry, Myrtle. You must be miserable."

"Sometimes...but I get along. I entertain myself going around and reading everyone's mind. You know, seeing what they're up to, what their secrets are. Some of them might shock you."

A brilliant plan had hatched then. "Myrtle, can you infiltrate Draco Malfoy's mind from here?"

"It's easier and more clear when their brain is in my presence, but I might be able to gather something up…" Myrtle closed her eyes in concentration. Toni waited patiently in silence. "Mm, I can't quite seek out his exact location, but his mood is popping out like a pregnant lady's belly button. He's quite frustrated. He's focusing really hard on something...He seems to have been waiting around for something to return to him. He's growing impatient. He's tired and very upset."

"He's with that cabinet, isn't he, in the Room of Requirement?" Toni urged.

"Hm, it would seem that way. I doubt he's in his dorm." Myrtle's expression lightened up. "He's just picked up a deceased milky-tinged bird from the cabinet. He's confused...a trifle anxious and sad. His focus has shifted...He's probably leaving now."

"Keep at him! Maybe you'll pick up something important."

"Why don't I glide out to him and bring him back here, Annie, since you're just dying! to see him. He would be more than happy too...All I can see right now is you, after all. You're all over his uppity brain. He'll hop straight in there with you."

"Drat," Toni grumbled, shaking her head. "No, forget about it. Whatever. I'm going to strategize a new plan anyhow. Obviously he's not going to tell me anything and I can't figure out squat from that cabinet."

"Oh, he is a dirty one. I'd probably be blushing red-hot if I were alive," Myrtle te-heed. "He wishes to run into you in the halls."

"What's he thinking about—never mind. I'd rather not know. Is he headed for the dungeons?"

"I'm not seeing that...I think he's headed out for the evening...I'm seeing shops...it's probably a nearby village."

"Hogsmeade…" Toni said. "I bet he's off to the Hobgoblin. It's a dank pub he took me to earlier this week."

Myrtle gasped pretentiously. "Are you two dating?"

"Take a look for yourself...No, even if it seems that way."

"But he wants very much to date you, doesn't he? He dreams of getting into your knickers. He's giving quite the representation as we speak."

"I don't want to hear about it!" Toni snapped. "Get out of there. I don't care to hear anymore from his stupid, vain mind."

"Fair enough. Who'd you like me to snoop now?"

"Um, no one. This doesn't feel right…" She stood, bracing herself from the slight chill of the room, the balmy water now at her knees. "Do seek me if you hear anything unusual or supposedly vital on Draco, though. I could use the help."

"Off to bed, Annie?"

"Well, it's Friday night, and I was meaning to sneak off to Ab's, but with the risk of running into his majesty, I think I'll pass and call it a night."

"Why don't you hang around Fay-bee. She's up, reading in your common room."

"Oh...is she?" Toni patted her legs dry in thought. "Yeah, I guess I might say hello...I've got that problem with Neville I should discuss over with her...See what she has to suggest."

"Ooh, he's slipped the L word, has he?" the ghost teased.

"...Yes," Toni sighed, tugging her panties up. "I love him too...just not in _that_ way. I have to break up with him. I can't allow this to proceed on. Not to mention I sort of cheated on him...when I made out with Remus. We were better off just friends from the start."

"Mm, good luck, Annie Mary. Send that Neville boy down here sometime...I think he's rather cute. Wouldn't hate getting to know him a smidgen better," Myrtle winked.

"Okay, maybe," Toni chuckled. "I'll probably be returning sometime soon, depending on just how shitty this break-up goes."

…

Just as Myrtle had said, Fay was seated in one of the armchairs facing the flaming hearth, invested in a novel. Toni was reluctant to disturb her...She may have been really into whatever she was reading, but she couldn't tell Hermione or Gin about this, not yet. She'd likely never tell either of them she kissed Remus. She was iffy about informing Fay on it. Ron would be flabbergasted at the news and probably think her a whore, and Luna wouldn't give the matter enough thought, since she was always too lost in her own.

Fay was new. She didn't _know_ Toni yet, but she would with the progressing span of the minute hand. Gawking about or holding in this quandary was bound to rouse ill fate, so Fay could catch up on her reading at a later time. Toni fell back into the armchair partnering Fay's.

"Hullo…" she mumbled.

"Oh, Ant, hey!" Fay beamed, immediately letting her book drop into her lap, the page unmarked.

"Do you have some time to chat?" the redhead inquired halfheartedly.

"Oh yeah. I'm just bored here. How was your day?"

"Well, today was alright...but there is one thing I've got to resolve. You see...oh, where to begin?"

"Just go on like you last Monday at the Hobgoblin," Fay said, her ears ready.

"Er...yeah. Fay, I forgot to mention that I am technically dating someone."

The brunette gave her a funny look. "...You _forgot_?"

"Well...no. Okay, so I've been seeing Neville Longbottom since early November. I feel like we're more close companions. I didn't bother telling you because I'm going to separate from him anyways...He dropped the L bomb on me today. It made me more agitated that it should have. I just...I'm not sure how to do it. It'll crush him."

"But you have to do it, right? If you're not satisfied with him?" Fay reasoned.

"Well, yes. How do I do it without making him hate me? I want to be his friend. We can't drift apart entirely."

"My ex, Daniel, never told me he loved me, so, dumping him wasn't so hard, Ant. I'm afraid I'm not sure how to advise what's right. I'm sure he'll be forgiving. He won't forget about you. You'll still be friends, I'm quite sure."

Well, I have faith," Toni said. "Um, how was your day?"

"Theodore Nott stared at me all during Runes." She blushed. "He's an arsehole, I've heard, but I think I like him."

"Nott...He's no socialite. And yeah, he's just as biased as all the other pureblooded Slytherins. He's a poindexter, one of the more intelligent fellows. I've seen him hang around Draco. I don't think he's shy, but more a willing loner, like Blaise, I guess. I've only spoken to him once. He wasn't evil, but he wasn't an angel either. You're sure he was gawking?"

"Fairly. I noticed him from my peripheral view, but I didn't look over at him till like fifteen minutes into class. He's a real creep." Fay grinned. "He's all lanky and awkward-looking. I-I like that. I've always been attracted to geeky boys."

"Are you going to confront him?"

"Um, I don't know. Like you said, if he's...not that social...I'll wait on it."

"He might be rude, Fay, if you do say hi, just to give you a heads up. He may call you out on your 'pathetic' Gryffindor and half-blood statuses."

"If he does, then...it's cool. I can be just as mean. I do hope that we won't end up debating like children, over the silliest shit."

Toni's ears perked at Fay's first spoken swear to her. This showed that their friendship had upgraded somewhat. It ingrained a more thorough comfort zone.

"Mmhm...While we're at it. I've a bit of a confession to address," Toni said.

"Oh yeah?"

"Do you remember Lupin? Remus Lupin? The guy who taught DADA a few years back?"

"Yes. I think he was sacked for being a werewolf," Fay replied.

"Snape ratted him out for having lycanthropy," Toni added on with a scowl. "_As if _he could help it. I'm still pissed about that."

"Yeah, he was an awesome teacher; definitely the best we've had. I was sad to see him go."

"I've kept in contact with him since then. We became close. We were close when we met, in fact, but I started calling him by his first name after third year." Toni smiled widely. "He didn't mind it. I'd had such a crush on him from the first day he taught class. Don't really know why...I just thought he was brilliant. I still do. He was sexy, kind, clever, knew how to make such a grim subject fun...I kissed him."

She heard Fay snort loudly. "Pardon?"

"I did, just last Christmas Eve at Ron's Burrow. I was so caught up in the moment. He kissed back...for a bit, before retracting like I have herpes or something."

Minor regret tingled along her skin as Fay's expression struck Toni as horrified, as if she had just been told that she murdered somebody. She didn't think of it in a bad fashion until now. However, funny feelings settled at Draco's bold reaction to the news.

"Wow...So, you're with Remus...and Neville?"

"I'm not exactly with Remus. We just kissed. And I'm...breaking up with Neville, for this particular reason, actually."

"Do you want to be with Remus?"

Toni shrugged. "I think I do. I don't think he does. He was heavily averted to our meeting lips."

"Are you going to come clean to Neville?"

"Um, I'll have to see. That might sever our bond completely. I may not risk it."

.

.

.

She managed to avoid Neville all that Saturday. Bravery was absent from her cognitive gallery. She steered clear of the Great Hall all day long, asking Fay to bring her some dinner rolls after each meal. With the loss of strength came unimaginable anxiety. She couldn't bring herself to face her boyfriend.

When neither Myrtle's or Fay's words of wisdom had her feeling fine to enlighten Neville to her impending decision, there was perhaps one other who could be of assistance.

"I must be fucking dreaming. You're six minutes _early_!"

"Draco, I could use some of your arrogance tonight," Toni said, her chest tightening. "I'm breaking up with Neville, and-"

"Fucking Merlin…" he muttered, his eyes quite bulged. "What? Is his boyhood too small for your liking?"

"Now don't _overdose_ the arrogance, man." She knelt down by him from where he sat in his respective recliner. "I can't do this to him anymore. He deserves better than me. I already cheated on him...I just can't muster up any feelings for him. He's my friend. One of my best friends."

"You call all of your friends your 'best' friends," Draco scoffed.

"I do love him, I really do, but...if, and when, he, you know, wants sex, I doubt I could bring myself to-"

"Have you told the goofy bloke about us, baby? Does he know of how we've shared many a kiss, or of how I have held the pleasure of seeing your bare titties, when he...hasn't?" Draco smirked suggestively. "I'm proud of you, sweetheart. Finally making a move I couldn't praise more."

"Oh, don't flatter yourself! I'm not doing this for you! It's for me, and it's for him. It's what's morally right, after - after I stabbed his back. I am an adulterating harlot, just like you said. He needs a girl more worthy of his affections and love, not me."

"Well, what do you want my help for? Dump the bugger, then. I'm tickled pink with amusement at the moment. You've seen, after far too long, that Longbottom's too much of a lightweight for you, the diehard gentleman. You don't want or need that, no, you need a man who will put his bloody foot down and not let you get away with everything, let alone many things. That's where I come into place, angel. I run you, make you tremble with worry and scream yourself hoarse with what's on the top of my mind. You function on that. It's your high, love, just as it's mine. Someday you're going to surrender yourself to me, whether sooner or later. No one else makes you feel the way I make you feel. Admit that, Potter. You're wise enough."

"No, I'm not," she argued bitterly. "You make me feel things that deteriorate my being. All this hatred...I have enough of it for enough people. You could walk out of my life to ease the stress and the pain." She got up. "Despite all you've said, I'm still going to _dump_ Neville. I am going to dump him because I love him, and I will never love you, Malfoy. Give me that look all you like. I. Hate. You. You're a foul pig. Just another gravely flawed embodiment of humanity." She crossed her arms, turning away from him. "I don't even understand why I waste my time with you."

"Yeah, I don't understand it either, Potter. It seems by now you would go out of your way to stay out of mine, but," he chuckled, "it's quite the other way round, yeah? You always come back, don't you? I must not 'deteriorate' your being that much because at this point, after all shit I've put you through, there'd be nothing of you left."

"You're a bastard." She rested her hands on either cheek of his and leant in to press her lips to his. "There's your goodnight kiss. Toodle-oo."

She took off, and he didn't stop her.

…

Her leisurely feet took their swell time for the common room. She would run up to her dorm, grab her coat, and down to Ab's it was. It was ten past midnight, so the barman probably wasn't closing up just yet.

She'd paced half the common room before her name was called. Neville was at the couch before the lit fireplace.

A sharp twinge prodded her stomach, and her knees buckled slightly.

"...Neville...Hi," she mumbled awkwardly.

"Hi, will you come here, Antonia?"

He was upset. She could see it. Sighing to herself, she met him at the couch and sat beside him.

"I tell you I love you, which is a big and kind of scary step of the relationship, I know, Toni, but you running off and avoiding me doesn't help circumstances a lot. I apologize if I threw you off by a huge shot, but can you at least let me know...let me know how you feel...about that."

She choked. "I-I love you too, Neville...but-"

"Oh, really?!" he said, concretely delighted and relieved. "I-I'm so happy to hear that, sweetie." He wrapped his arms around her snugly, scooping her into his lap and giving her cheek a lovey-dovey smooch.

"U-um, Neville-"

"You worried me, Toni. All day I thought I made a terrible mistake...thought I scared you away for good." He shook his head, grinning at ease, caressing her affectionately. "Well, we're alone in here...It's been vacant for the last hour."

He brought her into a kiss before she do anything to delay him. His gesture was soft and loving, but overwhelmingly gentle. Toni seldom much cared for Neville's kisses. He wouldn't move his lips enough. Their kiss was like a limp peck, and it was too dry, as if he were too cautious or polite to use his tongue. All of their kisses had been like this. Oh, how she lambasted herself for yearning this, but she wished Neville would kiss more like Draco. The Slyth's kisses were animalistic and euphorically sloppy. His mouth was all over hers every time, as was his tongue that had a habit of stabbing itself into the back of Toni's throat on nearly every session; every dizzying, vicious kiss they'd had thus far. He normally tasted of those green apples he ate religiously with a hint of some brand of alcohol, perhaps firewhiskey or mead. He would practically suffocate her with his intense mouth, rarely relenting even when she'd struggle to get him out of her mouth just so she could take a godforsaken breath. Several times she'd had to bite his tongue to get him to pull back, but he'd simply dive straight back in once her airways had their fill in his eyes.

Her faint plea against the other Gryff's mouth was muffled and he was enjoying himself too greatly to pay her much heed as he had her straddle his lap, his hands venturing her lower back. Neville's hands explored the back of her head, his fingers burying themselves into her russet strands as he tilted his head some and gradually skimmed the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip prior to sucking on it. When she closed her eyes, she felt Draco, and fell under the impression that he was again assaulting her with his horny mouth. The notion maddened her with frustration, and she cursed him repeatedly in her head, but that was all she could do.

And so, for the first time, her and Neville were making out, and in a manner that moderately mirrored her and Remus' bout. The unfortunate factor was, he was about to have his desires cancelled, but Toni would try her best to not appear uncivil in this.

"Neville," she breathed, tearing his face from hers. "I—We can't."

"You...don't want to snog?" His eyebrows were piqued as he frowned, a tad hurt.

The witch would phrase this slowly and precisely, but just as much so as she could manage. "...We...I...don't want to…" she choked again, albeit briefly, "sleep with you," she finished tersely.

"Antonia, it's alright," he said kindly, massaging into her roots with his thumbs. "I completely understand if you want to wait for marriage. It's okay. We can wait for intercourse if that's what you're comfortable with."

She stiffened. '_Marriage?!'_

That had crossed the line. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't allow that to happen. Fumbling out of his lap, she stammered, "No, I-I don't _ever_ want to sleep with you, Neville!"

Nauseating remorse struck her at his lucidly offended expression.

"Oh…"

"No, listen, Neville," she said, stumbling against the mantelpiece. "There's something very important I need to say."

"Then say it," he said with woe, sensing her upcoming statement that promised heartbreak.

"Neville…" She was shuddering uncontrollably. She hadn't been this perturbed in months. "I don't want to be with you anymore." She couldn't look him in the eyes. "I think that perhaps...we make for more suitable friends."

"Why do you say that? Did I do something wrong?" he asked sadly.

"_I_ did. I've betrayed you, Neville," she uttered tremulously.

"We can work things out, Antonia...Whatever you did...it's okay."

"But it's not," she countered. "Alright, Neville, I...I kissed Remus," she gulped, her gaze still away from his, "over holiday break at Ron's house. We were downstairs, and everybody else was in bed. It didn't last more than twenty sec-"

"Good Merlin!" Neville stood abruptly, glaring at her for the first time since last November when she stood him up in the common room, before they began dating. "You...you..." He tore his eyes from her, evidently cross and bewildered.

"I did it with purpose," Toni went on bluntly, "I initiated it, sort of trapped him into it."

"Why?!" Neville muttered. "Why would you...So what has this all been? These last few months...These last six years that I have...that I have felt so strongly for you." He shook his head for the second time in those ten minutes they'd been in here, now with reawakened grief. "Has it all been rubbish? Have I fallen for you as a fool would?"

Her middle stung when his cheeks were suddenly dripping wet.

"Neville-"

"Have you had relations with him? Remus?" he urged, sniffling.

"Oh, no! I swear on my heart and soul, we only had that one kiss-"

"I really revered that bloke," he scoffed. "He helped exterminate my fears of grandmother...of Snape."

Even mentioning all that her and Draco were was remarkably out of the question. Neville would try to fight him, and he would lose fast and terribly. She refused to hurt him anymore.

"Neville...I shouldn't have agreed to go out with you at all. I didn't want our relationship to come to this."

"It's not a relationship, is it really, Toni?" he articulated, droplets trickling off his chin. "You do this to me...after I tell you I love you... Do you have any idea how...how much courage I had to muster up to say those words? I've loved you for so long, but...oh, never mind it. It's all been useless."

"And I mean it when I say I love you too, Neville! I really do, but understand that I-...I love you like, like I would love...er…"

"I see, like a brother or a friend," he sighed, his ego stamped out tragically.

"I don't want you to cry. I was hoping you wouldn't take it like this." Now she felt on the verge of tears herself.

"No, I'm more upset that you...went off and kissed our former professor. Has it occurred to you that he's _twice_ our age, Antonia? He's as old as my parents. Bollocks, they went here with him. They were in his year, as were your parents. I'm - I am _astonished_ that you even fancy him."

Her whole body went ruby at that dawning. "...I know it's messed up...I'm sorry, Neville. I know I don't have a chance with him anyway. I'm not even sure I want that…" She forced her dampening eyes to his. "I want your companionship, Neville. I've cherished that from first year, you know that. I've always been...felt, closer to you than with Ron or - or even Hermione."

As she went for him with open arms, he repelled.

"I'm really hurt by all this, Antonia," he trembled. "What am I to do with these feelings for you? Just stow them away in the back of my mind and forget it all?! It won't be that easy."

"Oh, come on, Neville! We're still friends! Don't let who I hold feelings for interfere with our-"

"YOU'VE BROKEN MY HEART!" he hollered, his raw emotions thickening the air.

"...No! I didn't mean...Neville, please-"

"I'm going to need some space...to think...to think about this."

He was out of the room then, leaving her to herself, in her own harrowed devastation. She had not ever previously felt like such a bitch.


	24. Myrtle's Advice

**Chapter Twenty-Four  
**_**Myrtle's Advice**_

"Did he weep as an infant would?"

A violet bra flew through the ghoul then, a fifty pointer.

"It was a nightmare, Myrtle!" the witch bit out. stripping hastily, her eyes swelled, her nose runny and her temples throbbing in ache. "Our friendship is slaughtered! He won't have anything of me again!"

"Relax, Annie. He'll forgive you."

Toni snorted up oozing snot. "He - he will?" she murmured.

Myrtle snickered. "Mmmmay-be."

"WELL?! Look it up! Will he or not?" she demanded.

"Let's not fixate on the future now, Antie Rose. Why don't we reflect an event of the past."

"My future is something I have to fixate on, Myrtle. I'm not destined like the others. I have actual havoc to deal with. I've no option."

"You bathed right there two years ago." Myrtle pointed to the very position Toni was that night in her fourth year, just several feet from where she stood now. "Remember how edgy you were when you were virgin to this lavatory? You weren't, and to this day aren't, as a matter of fact, allowed in here. Tehe...naughty. You told me about how Cedric gave you the password." Myrtle sighed with a smile, rolling her head back. "That boy was a dream! So charming and handsome. I much adored watching him soak in the nude. He was toned and muscular in some places. Nicely endowed too I might say…"

"Myrtle, enough," Toni said, lowering herself into the toasty pool. "He's deceased. Don't speak of him like that. Actually, just don't speak of him at all."

"Tut tut, Anne. He's doing fine in the spirit world. He frequently spends time with his great, great Uncle Claude."

"Oh, that's wonderful. Such a relief. Though he was only seventeen, Myrt. He had his whole life ahead of him."

.

.

.

_Reminisce: June 24th of 1995 - The Third Task_

Shreds of newspaper littered the tabletop as Toni ripped up that morning's Skeeter lies.

"How does the bitch do it? She couldn't have possibly been around to overhear…" Toni swept her joggling fingers through her locks. Her bare stomach restricted any food, its tangled state too vengeful to accept a petty spoonful of cereal or a sliver of fried egg.

"Someone's snitching off to her, I'd wager," Ron said, his plate already clean, without a scrap remaining. "Malfoy's first on my list of suspects. Prat probably hides round the corners and tunes in."

"Yes…" she agreed monotonously. She glanced behind her at the Slytherin table where said boy and his cronies were joking around. With a flick of her wand, she hexed a pitcher of pumpkin juice to wash over Draco, eliciting a shriek from him that sounded similar to the one he created when he was transfigured into a ferret that last fall.

Heads were turned and giggles were had from his fellow Slyths and other Houses alike, but Toni was too depressed and unhinged to crack a toothy reaction at the cheap hilarity. The gloomy witch slumped over the table, scooting her scraps to Ron, her closed eyes tingling as tears threatened to leak.

"I have a theory on how Rita's been obtaining information," Hermione said, rising. "I'm running off to the library. I'll return as soon as I can."

"Errkay," Toni moaned as Hermione scurried off. Just seconds after Hermione had gone, two fingers prodded at the hunched girl's back. She jerked up to see McGonagall stalking over her. Toni grinned crookedly.

"Morning, Miss Potter. Won't you follow me? Champions may meet with family members this morning."

Toni nodded and departed the table as Ron, Ginny and Neville gave their heartfelt ta-tas.

"Molly and Bill Weasley are here to see you," Minerva said, whisking away the teen's shock as to why the Dursleys had arrived to show their support. However, the Twilight Zone had not abandoned her, not with the third task transpiring that afternoon. Rumor had it this one was the trickiest and eeriest challenge.

"That's eh, excellent, professor," she replied, insensible everywhere, her conscious an inferno as they made their journey towards the Quidditch pitch.

"You're nervous, Antonia. It's going to be alright," Minerva assured her, rewarding her a pat on the shoulder. "You triumphed through the last two tournaments marvelously. You will survive."

"Oh, um, thank you, professor," Toni murmured.

Reaching the pitch to greet Molly and Bill had brightened her temperament and cleared her of some of the pessimism she'd endured from awakening at the entrance of dawn. Mrs. Weasley's face was happy and welcoming as was Bill's. Seeing them unraveled her, even eased her a bit, as if they'd implemented a _you'll be safe_ conception.

"Antonia, dearest," Molly greeted warmly while burying the girl into her chest, her arms snugly around her in an instant.

"Mmmrs. Weasley," she wheezed as her chest deflated some. She shook Bill's hand from his stance behind his mother, the hug having lasted close to a minute. "I wasn't expecting you. I'm grateful you came."

"Why, of course, darling! We're here to cheer you on!" Molly exclaimed. Toni briefly wondered where Arthur was, but reckoned he was busy with the Ministry.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, Bill."

"You're so white, and you're shivering like you have a cold," Molly said, examining the frightened contestant. "Are you feelings sick, sweetpea?"

"I'm just a tad tense. I'm experiencing the effects one goes through pre-tournament." She gulped, troubled with hyperventilation.

"Ah, you are strong, Anne, dear. Just keep in mind that we all believe in you. Your friends, Bill here, and myself. Arthur asked that I wish you success; he was sorry he couldn't accompany us."

"Oh, thank him," Toni replied kindly.

"A labyrinth, huh?" Bill noted, eyeing over her vast objective.

"Yup...A mightily humongous one," Toni said meekly.

"You may have fun in there, you know. It can't be _too_ dangerous, after all," he went on, actually inspiring courage, if not just a smidgen, on her part.

Nearby, Cedric's father, Amos Diggory, found her with his eyes. His expression was quite plain. When Toni grinned and waved at him, he returned a heavy glower. He then stalked for her with crossed arms.

"Miss Potter, I've noticed you've taken to victory from the first task up until now," Amos said in a tone that inferred his disconcert. "_Stealing_ my son's credit, the rightful Hogwarts champion," he went on, her skin broiling at that insult.

"I thought everyone knew that I didn't even sign up for this," she said coldly. She was exceedingly destabilized today and rudeness directed to her would be dealt with with returned rudeness, she decided. "I apologize if my 'victory' is making you cranky. I have a knack for coming by victory on accident. If your son wins the eternal glory tonight, I will congratulate him with all due purpose." She walked away with Molly and Bill to meet up with Ron and Gin who'd just arrived.

"Well done, dear," Molly congratulated, building on the contestant's willpower more so.

…

The maze closed up behind both her and Cedric. The sky above had gone stark, the light dimming vastly as the sun had made its depart altogether. Toni swore that the temperature had lowered by roughly twenty degrees, goosebumps elongating her arms, but that could have been mere cause to her worry just the same.

"I'll take this path," Cedric said, pointing left. "You take that one." He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Be careful, Antonia."

"Yeah, you too, Cedric," she mumbled.

She proceeded right, stepping onward for surrounding darkness and a chill in the air that invaded its way down her spine. Several swerves and over a hundred steps later, she'd met Cedric again, his sleeve smoking. He was convulsing more violently than she was.

"God, what happened?!" she gasped, smacking his arm wildly in fear that his sleeve would smolder.

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," he panted. "They're among us."

"Oh hell," she muttered as he walked off in another direction. She went on her own way, to cross a dementor halfway down a path. From not ten feet before the misty entity she stumbled backwards, taking a spill, traumatized, until realizing that it was just a bogart, to which she could cast off with her wand. She attained to banish it.

Carrying on, a piercing, curt scream rang out. It sounded like Fleur. Sprinting corner after corner, she heard nor saw the other female champion, but could only assume that she was unharmed—and exiled from the competition.

Soldiering on, she doubted she'd find this cup, not that she ever really aspired to for starters. This entire tournament was all tripe; just a hazardous waste of her time. Of her and the other two remaining champs, she wished for Viktor to win. She respected Cedric, for there wasn't anything to really hold against the guy, but the fashion in which his father had treated her not a while ago...The man was too greedy for his boy's success. Perhaps if Cedric lost this, the greed within him would falter a bit. That seemed quite in order, to Toni anyway. Her mind having ambled, another hearty shout plucked her from her reverie.

"WHAT THE HELL D'YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

It was Cedric. Her legs took on a full sprint—to run into both boys, Viktor towering over Cedric, who was lain on the grassy floor, his arms shielding from the attacker. Toni shrieked when Viktor issued the Cruciatus Curse. His attention then on her, she stunned him in the nick of time, hurrying to tend to Cedric.

"Shit! Shit! This is going too far!" she stammered, sending red sparks into the air to signal the judges on their whereabouts so they could better locate the transfixed Bulgarian.

"We've got to complete this, Antonia," Cedric said, getting to his feet. "It's just you and I now. Let's get this over with."

She thought to voice her wish to stick by his side, but that killed the regulations of the tournament, and while she didn't give a hoot about this deadly game, apparently the Hufflepuff did. Taking a random route, she obsessed on Viktor's brash course of action.

'_He must have been possessed,'_ she decided. '_By something...but what, and why? All of this seems too out of control for a __**school**_ _competition...it's too intense! Viktor could have seriously injured or even murdered him!' _

Her mull was ruptured when she flinched upon feasting her greens on a massive creature with a lion's body and a pharaoh woman's head—otherwise known as a sphinx. Withdrawing her wand evoked soft words from the beast.

"Answer me this riddle, and I shall provide leeway and you may pass, remain silent and turn back and you shall remain unscathed, but answer me incorrectly and you will be maimed."

Toni nodded abruptly. "I-I'd like to hear the riddle."

"_First think of the person who lives in disguise,  
__Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.  
__Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,  
__The middle of middle and end of the end?  
__And finally give me the sound often heard  
__During the search for a hard-to-find word.  
__Now string them together, and answer me this,  
__Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?"_

She'd paid close attention, and the first answer to strike her was a dementor with that last line, but she withheld this for precaution and contemplated harder.

'_A person who lives in disguise and deals in secrets and lies? A...spy? The middle of the middle...end of end...does she mean the letter D? The sound often heard when searching for a…'_

"Er…"

'_Wait! Is that it? String them...Ah ha!'_

"Uh! Is it spider?!"

When the sphinx stepped towards the bushes, Toni sped by, and a short distance ahead laid the Triwizard Cup. This was it, she guessed. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure Cedric wasn't catching up, she went to claim the prize. Her left hand glowed a turquoise tinge as she reached out for the radiating trophy—Cedric's scream freezing her intentions.

"Damn!" she spat, turning back to see possible offspring of Aragog crawling after the seventeen-year-old. "I'm coming!" she hollered, racing up to him to assist in taking down the arachnid. Hissing went aloud from not far and fangs twitched in Cedric's face as Toni swatted at a large and twiggy leg. Whilst hexing it, she twisted her ankle over a vine jutting out from the bushes, landing on her side with a jolt.

The spider had been out cold at least, leaving Cedric okay, huffing passionately. When Toni tried to get up, she felt an incisive pang smart her right ankle, her entire right leg madly sore as well. Cedric offered her his hand, but she refused it.

"Go on. You can have the cup, Cedric."

"It wouldn't be fair, Antonia. You've only helped me all through this," he reasoned, out of breath.

"I've hurt my foot. Just go get it. Your dad wants it for you anyway."

"He told you so?...Figures. He suggested I do this tournament in the first place. Frankly, I wasn't all for it…" he sighed, bending down to scoop the injured witch into his arms.

"No, it's fine, Cedric-"

"We'll take it together, how about that?" he said, carrying her forth. The next thirty or so steps she'd valued in the older student's muscular arm's. She believed him to be...cute, maybe even hot, and had he asked her out over Cho, she might have gone for such.

"Thank you," she mumbled, her head against his chest.

"Thank _you_, Antonia," he said, the magnificent cup waiting for their hands.

Slowly, they both wrapped their fingers around the handle, and much wind and swirling color had them—to then crash into the ground, their atmosphere having altered in a process neither could perceive yet. Carefully opening her eyes, all she could see were tombstones. The air was nippy as fog clouded the proximity, a full moon glistening down on them.

His arms still fastened around her, Cedric grumbled, "A cemetery?"

"Something's horribly wrong," Toni whispered.

"The cup...is a portkey…" Cedric noted, now sliding his hands from here to come to his feet, drawing his wand in the meantime.

A stocky, hooded figure manifested from beyond the neighboring fog, and at that moment, Toni's scar exploded into an agonizing sting. She was unable to suppress a cry out. Her eyes clenched shut and she retched.

"_Kill the spare!"_ someone rasped.

A bright green flash zapped next to her then, and she choked back a gasp as Cedric dropped beside her. She peeled her eyes to see him laying stiff, his eyes wide, unblinking. As realization beat its way into her, she released a scream that could curdle blood, black dots speckling her vision as nausea nearly knocked her unconscious. In her state of psychosis, the hooded man took her by the ankle and dragged her away towards a grave marked: 'TOM RIDDLE'. Studying the face of her cloaked captor, she recognized him as Wormtail.

"WHAT HAVE YOU FUCKING DONE TO HIM?! FUCKING BASTARD!" she wailed highly enough to practically scorch her throat.

"Dark Lord's orders!" Wormtail excused, hauling her up against the peaking tombstone, binding her to it using his wand.

"Coward!" she screeched at him, blinded with tears. "Damn loser! He's seventeen, you heartless fuck!"

"Was," he dared correct, reaching down to garner a wriggling bundle lying at the foot of the grave.

Staring traumatized as he headed for a boiling cauldron, she shouted, "You're going to kill a baby too?!"

A low chuckle returned. "This is no infant," he informed, pinning his inky glints to her as he unraveled the cloth, "but the Lord himself."

Her knees had given out, but her bindings caught her from slipping down. Bile rose to seep into the back of her mouth as the monster was revealed. It was hairless, scaly, and raw everywhere, its flesh red in some areas and pinkish in others. Its arms and legs were bony and feeble, like a house-elf's, and its face resembled a snake's, flat and inhuman with gleaming ruby eyes.

He placed the thing into the cauldron. Toni shut her eyes and prayed that he'd drown or simmer into a stub due to the boiling. Wormtail initiated an incantation, sprinkling a powder into the liquid, chanting, "Bone of the father, unknowingly given."

"Flesh of the servant...willingly given," he stammered, pellucidly skittish. He brought a blade above his head—to sling it down and through his wrist, his right hand plopping into the liquid. At this, Toni couldn't help but vomit some.

"Devoted piece of shit," she growled, more to herself.

"Blood of the enemy...forcibly taken," he said, heeling back for the vulnerable girl.

"Stay back! No!" she screamed as he neared, his eyes gleeful and his mien quite crazed. "Away! Stop it!" she barked, writhing to her best ability with no progress.

"Forcibly taken..." he repeated, carving the blade along her clothed right forearm, extracting eardrum-shattering bawls from the victim, though he winced at the volume none, only a sick, gut-wrenching grin stretched about his hideous face. She spasmed while he trotted back for the pot to shake her gathered blood in, abundant bubbles now forming. "My Lord will rise once again tonight!"

A gush of blanch steam billowed from the cauldron then. The cauldron appeared to melt down as a burst of fire erupted, transforming into a man, well, not quite a man, but a monstrosity of a creature. Momentarily, where the cauldron previously rested, a sallow being the size and shape of a man stood, his head still bald and veiny, a black mist bordering over him to end up a cloak.

The right side of Toni's forehead burned so immensely that she yearned to claw the skin straight off. With her ongoing howls, the Dark Lord was quick to spot her, but he ignored her initially, to rub his bare foot over Cedric's cheek, riling the daylights out of the secured witch.

"LEAVE HIM BE, YOU SORRY MOTHERFUCKER!" she cried.

He paid her no mind yet, merely smirking at her audacity as he moseyed over to Wormtail, requesting his wand. Bowing, the dutiful servant handed it to him. He then asked for his arm, to which Wormtail presented him his handless one, to be re-asked for the hand-bearing one. He obeyed, cocking a thick brow, and Voldemort tapped his dark mark, turning it charcoal from its former fade. The slate clouds above massed to mould a skull, a serpent to slither out its gaping mouth as thunder sounded.

Voldemort centered a group of hooded men—his death eaters—once they'd cleared in.

"Welcome, my friends. Thirteen years it's been, and yet, here you stand before me, as if it were...only yesterday. I confess myself disappointed." His demeanor varied as he spun on his stance. "Crabbe!" He snatched a mask from a beefy follower. "Macnair! Goyle! Avery! Nott!" He did them before pacing across the lawn to scold, "Even you, Lucius!"

"But _I_ have remained faithful, my - my Lord!" Wormtail chipped in.

"Only out of fear, mind you," Voldemort bit out, approaching the cowering oaf. "However, you have proved yourself useful these past few months." He snatched his servant's shaking hand to reward him a new hand, this one silver and quite shiny.

"Master...I thank you! Oh, thank you, master!" Wormtail squealed, only proving himself a diehard bitch in Toni's eyes.

"May I enquire, my Lord, how...you've been reborn?" Lucius asked faintly.

"It is all cause to the girl's mother, Lucius," he began, now ogling over the helpless prisoner, "for that Hallows Eve night those years ago, she cast a charm, a protective charm of pure love, that ultimately saved her precious child's life. Such clever filth, she was-"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! NO! DON'T SAY THAT! NO!" Toni outburst, feeling as though she were achingly hanging from her limbs, her pain only worsening by the tick.

"Yes, the contaminated woman had my spirit ripped from my body and transported to a faraway place, a forest, until just four years ago, a young wizard stumbled upon what entity lasted of me, and I possessed him…" He looked over at Potter. "You might have known him as Professor Quirrell, my dear." His focus back at his servants, he continued, "I waited patiently for my loyal followers to consider rescuing their master once the quivering dullard I was borrowing was conclusively weaker than I needed him to be. Just over a year ago, Wormtail came to his senses and sought me out, his regained human form not so _elusive_...he looked to the greatest for assistance. Finding me, he had along with him a most deceitful witch of the Ministry, one whom would enlighten me to the Triwizard Tournament—which sums up the matter at hand…" he smiled wryly at the redhead. "Antonia Potter would be trapped with this challenge, eventually landing herself here where she's needed most, her rich blood having perfected this evening's goal where I've become useful in owning a body of my own once more."

"A damn ugly one!" she jibed enthusiastically. "You're without a nose, meaning you're more than likely without a dick too!"

"Silence!" he muttered, prancing to her. As he almost closed the distance between them, he rasped on, "Thanks to someone who currently takes to Hogwarts, I am here, as alive and well as I was thirteen years ago, Miss Potter. And now that you're blood has been put to use in my resuscitation, mummy's little spell has expired, leaving you absolutely at my mercy!" He jammed his index finger at her scar, generating a pain so powerful it numbed just seconds later. Removing his finger after what could have been ten seconds or a minute, she couldn't tell, he said, "Tom Riddle was my father. A worthless muggle whom used my pureblooded mother to only abandon her after he discovered she was of magic. I swore from early in my youth I would find him, wherever he was hiding, and I would make him suffer, and I succeeded." He crooked his neck to call after Wormtail. "Undo her."

Hastily he does, and she plummets to the solid ground landing on her stomach. The Cruciatus Curse leaves her catatonic in anguish. She is too frail to beg him to cease the torment.

"You are going to perish very soon, my dear," Voldemort cooed, surprisingly gentle. "Rise now. We are going to duel properly."

"Get bent," she wheezed.

Losing patience, he seized a chunk of her hair and pulled at it as a troll would tug off a dragon's wing, a bundle of strands tearing from her skull in the process. Hissing, she trembled up to her feet, struggling to stay up, her strength diminished nearly entirely.

"Take a bow for me now, dearest," he ridiculed, and when she kept still, her eyes tightly sealed, he forced her forward with his wand, briefly cruciating her for being disobedient. "Plead that I stop, Antonia. Act as a behaved little lady would."

"Fuck you," she groaned.

"I need to instill some obedience into that obstinate mind of yours before I put you to everlasting rest, young lady."

He went to use the Imperius Curse to conjure the submissive plea he so desired to hear, but she resisted it just as Moody had taught her to earlier that year. When the Lord tried to effect her with Cruciatus again, she dodged the hex by diving behind the closest tombstone. She took cover briefly, wishing to not die as a coward would, but rather, on her feet, just like her parents did.

Fragile as she was, she staggered before him, her wand ready as she cast a disarming charm, and just as she'd cast it, Voldemort roared, "Avada Kedavra!"

As their spells collide, a rainbow is born, lighting up much of the dreary cemetery. Toni's left arm is shuddering profusely as she keeps her aim steady with his. Gorgeous lighting isn't all that has Toni's heart pounding, but the ghosts emerging from the vibrating stream of brilliant hues. Frank Bruce, Bertha Jorkins and Cedric Diggory are amid them, her parents to follow.

"Listen to me, sweetheart! When the connection is broken, we will stay for only moments, but we will give you time. You must get to the portkey. It will return you to Hogwarts," James Potter said, mesmerizing his daughter.

She nodded swiftly, now finding it impossible to drive her sights from her mum.

"Let go, love! You're ready!" Lily ordered, her voice a soft, pleasant lilt, similar to her daughter's.

"Bring my body back to my father, will you?" Cedric said, and she would certainly.

Toni ended her cast and fled for Cedric, to accio the cup and apparate with it and the body, narrowly escaping Voldemort.

Cheering, tooting horns and applause boomed over Toni's sobbing as she soaked up Cedric's House shirt. Reeling from trauma, she cringed as everyone cheered on a corpse. More than fifteen seconds passed until the crowd finally quieted down and the music went dead.

Dumbledore hurriedly joined her on the ground, his hands around her as he attempted to pry her off of the late contestant.

"H-he's back! Voldemort!" she ground out while the headmaster struggled to console her. "He—he had—he had Wormtail kill…" she broke down, her breathing shallowed as her head throbbed and hurt worse than ever before in her life.

Some screamed once the tragic news traveled out, but no one's cry of melancholy could be compared to that of Cedric's father, whom collapsed over his only son and bellowed his heart and soul out. It silenced the stands. Toni watched Amos fall apart blurrily as someone hoisted her up and dragged her from the pandemonium.

"C'mon, we're going to my office," Professor Moody mumbled in her ear, practically carrying her away from the field.

"B-but! N-n-no! No! Please!" she blubbered, hardly capable of speaking straightly.

The bigger man tightened his hold on her as she wobbled on with a limp, her muscles inflamed. He patted her upper back coaxingly as she shook uncontrollably. Not a ton of empathy was to be expected from him. Minutes later, Toni was led into his chamber-like office, the cool air instantly making her fretful as it reminded her of the graveyard's atmosphere.

"Take a seat right there," Alastor said, alluding to a lopsided stool at a desk cluttered with various objects, flasks, scrolls and books. "Tell me what happened," he gruffed, taking a small bottle from a shelf across the room.

Her state of mind was all a jumble, and she had no clue where to pick up. "Cedric and I touched the cup t-together...it brought us to a cemetery…" she whimpered, "P-peter Pettigrew...shot the killing curse at him…"

"Yes, and? Take it easy, Miss Potter," the teacher said, confronting her with the bottle. "Guzzle this up. It'll help with the pain."

"W-what is it?"

"Just drink it. Trust my word."

Her better judgement was aloof by now anyway. She sipped it and downed the whole few tablespoons that were in it in spite of its sour taste.

"He's back...Voldemort."

Mad-Eye's good eye enlarged in wonder. "How? How has he returned?"

"It's a - a lot of explaining…"

"Well, go on! We've got all night," he muttered tersely, his annoyance startling her.

"Wormtail bound me to Tom Riddle's grave and he had this potion brewing in a caudron. He put grinded bones of...of, um, um, Tom Riddle himself, I think, in this cauldron, then Wormtail…" she grimaced at the memory, "cut off his own hand, then he sliced my arm up and flicked some of my blood in...then this creature that he put in the cauldron morphed into...not quite a human...but like a monster or a demon of some sort. He didn't have a nose, and he - he looked very odd."

"Give me your arm."

Warily, she lifted her sliced up right arm and he took it none too gracefully. He inspected the wound by ripping apart the material more to effectively reveal the lengthy cut. Nothing sounded but her uneven breaths and frequent squeaks of lachrymose and frustration.

"Remove you shirt," he directed, heading back across the room to the basin.

"I don't think I need to, sir," she objected, her face warming up. "This is the only area I've been cut, so-"

"Do as I say, Potter," he muttered, dampening a rag, squeezing excess water over the drain.

Hesitantly, she rolled her tattered and blood-dried shirt over her head, taken aback at his demand and somewhat embarrassed about this. She was especially offended to watch the much older prof's expression lighten up at seeing her in her bra alone. She'd counted him many things since the first day, but a pervert wasn't one of them. She kept her eyes still on the gray stone flooring as he sat down next to her, stole her hand and scoured the damp cloth vigorously over the incision, making her wince.

"You feel any better?" he asked in a nicer tone.

"I suppose...physically...but I feel fractured inside." Her head shot up at his discreet albeit audible tsk. "What? Did that sound too corny for you? I've been through nothing but hell in the last hour, sir!"

"Shh, calm yourself, Potter."

"I can't be calm! I've just lost a friend!"

"You and Diggory were not friends," he scoffed. "Never before, save for that single occasion where Lucius' son got treated to an adventure in his well-fed mate's knickers, did I see you speaking with the bugger. I understand that you're in shock and sad at the loss, but don't kid yourself."

She didn't want to believe what she was hearing. That...that was just off the deep-end, even for him. Very insulted at his careless choice of words, she rushed up and tried to get away from him, but he had her by the wrist. She couldn't budge.

"Let me tend to this, you silly woman," he groused, yanking her so that she stumbled into his lap. When she fought fruitlessly to scramble from his sway, he affixed her with a strong arm around her waist.

"Wha—what are you doing?!"

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm cleaning this up."

"Why are you having me...sit like this? This is…"

He skimmed his calloused hand over her forearm. Those blacks dots from earlier returned when his spiky facial hairs prickled against her earlobe as he whispered, "Is _what_, pet?"

"...Inappropriate…"

Negative inklings settled in at how different his voice had sounded. It was higher, perhaps more plummy, quite unlike his usual timbre. The guttural chuckle to ensue panicked her, and at this point she'd been through enough panic for an army locked in a gas chamber. She battled against his grip, severely repulsed at such salacious behavior. When she threw her head back to slam the bridge of his nose, he cursed out loudly and slackened his clutch.

Tripping through the office for the door, Alastor caught ahold of her conveniently long hair and hauled her back to him, to barricade her with his arms at the wall nearest. She screamed to her being's content so that someone, anyone, could hear her.

"You think you can slip away from the Master so simply, Antonia?! Are you truly as naive as you've shown yourself to be?"

"Master…?" she gasped. "You...you are one of them?"

"It was all organized so precisely...Nothing was out of order until you blew it," he snapped, his face ridiculously close to hers, huffs of liquor and another pungent smell akin to urine brushing her face, but it was vaguely evocative. She'd smelled it before…

"Please...let me go," she asked, squirming, her insides clustered up.

"I had your name in the fucking goblet, you got in, you grabbed the cup as planned and got to the graveyard."

"It...was _you_ all along? I...thought Karkaroff…"

"Igor hasn't been faithful to our Lord for over thirteen blasted years." He smirked wickedly, flaunting his grimy molars. "And now that he's risen once more, he will spread his wrath, love. All the blood traitors, mudbloods, and those who've moved on and forgotten our Master's reign with pay their dues. You're his."

"I got away tonight! I'll do it again in the future!" she snarled.

Her head thwacked the stone wall following his swung fist at her jawline. The assault was brutal, leaving her vision spinning. She scarcely registered the lone finger that slithered down into her cleavage.

"He can have you when I'm done playing…"

Defensively, she could only shrink in opposition to him, but her prayers were answered when the door was thrown open—in dashing the Headmaster, Snape and McGonagall. Alastor was stunned and thrown into a chair. Toni skittered out of the way as Albus stormed for Mad-Eye—to force his head in place, taking hold of his neck.

"This isn't Alastor, Antonia," Albus panted, "but an imposter. Severus, the Veritaserum." The potions prof stalked forth to pour a clear liquid down the faker's agape mouth. "Is the legitimate Alastor Moody in this room?" he inquired.

"Y-yes," the man in disguise croaked.

"Where?"

He tilted his head to his left towards the trunk. The three hastened to cast it open—and at the bottom, over thirty feet below laid the real Moody, sprawled out, donning a stained pair of longjohns, his composure sickly and his hair matted and thinned out in some areas.

"Are you alright, Alastor?" Albus called down at him.

"...Fine and dandy," he moaned back.

From her huddled position across the office, Toni glared over at the impostor. The truth had dawned.

"I think he used polyjuice potion!" she said as the three turned to face her. Self-conscious, she covered herself up, Minerva taking hint and striding over to give up her cloak for the partially undressed girl.

"Yes," Snape confirmed upon taking a whiff of a flask that rested on the table.

Then the fake began to flail crazily in his seat, his false eye popping out of his socket to bounce on the floor below. His neck jerked and cracked for a dozen seconds—and he was suddenly thirty or so years younger, freckled in the face with mopped brunet hair and moderate attractiveness. Toni recognized him from the memory in the pensieve that Albus had shown her months earlier.

It was Barty Crouch Junior.

"Master Barty! What is you doing here?" a little female elf, Winky, whined, skipping into the office.

Still under the influence of the tonic, the adults interrogated him.

"Mother was dying, so she convinced father dearest to disguise herself as me with that damn useful polyjuice, and she took my place in Azkaban until she kicked the bucket nine months back. I laid low in dad's house while under the Imperius Curse. Winky did as she was told, talked dad into letting me go to the Quidditch World Cup using his invisibility cloak. The elf had to assure dad that mum died for my freedom. Couldn't live with my suffering. Dad came to his senses. I broke out of dad's curse at the World Cup, and then I cast the Dark Mark after the Cup final," he inhaled after talking non stop. "Got together with the Dark Lord, and we formed our pact from there. He put dad under the very curse he had me stuck under for good measure, and he was went about his business, grandly oblivious. Pettigrew and I whipped up the polyjuice, I kidnapped Moody, and the rest is history. Eventually, dad snapped out of his Imperious and meant to warn you," he gazed at Albus, "but I killed the old bastard before things could get out of hand." He grinned with twisted mirth then. "I turned the Triwizard Cup into a portkey, and my Master's plan worked out. He's back and more superior than ever before…"

Presenting him a disgusted look, Albus turned to Minerva and sighed, "Send an owl out to Azkaban."

"I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards!" he cackled, gifting the damaged witch feet off to the side a leer. "You best be careful, little girl! I break free again, I'm claiming you! HA! HA! HA!"

"Minerva, guide her to the infirmary," Albus said, and Minerva did, leading her to the first haven she'd see in hours.

.

.

.

"I endured post-traumatic stress that night onward. Madam Pomfrey diagnosed it herself. I kept having panic attacks, Myrtle. I went back home with everyone else, but I took shelter to my bedroom most of the summer. Albus wrote up an excuse for the Dursleys, so they mostly ignored me."

"And your dauntless attributes died with Ceddy, mm?"

Toni glowered the ghost's way, but came to see her statement as true. "I think they might have." She sagged so that only her head and neck were sticking out of the water. "But maybe I was never fearless anyway. Maybe I've always been a bit of a chicken."

"Hattie labeled you a Gryffindor. You must have been brave at some point in your life," Myrtle reasoned.

"All this death has really gotten to me, Myrtle. I'm sixteen and I've seen so much of that. I've been through so much. I can't really take much more, but I know I must. It's inevitable."

"Is death what you're most afraid of, Annie?"

"For others, yes, but not myself. If self-sacrifice is necessary to save the people I love, then I'll have it."

"What is it you are most spooked of right now...in this day and age?"

"Losing Neville...as a friend. My connection with Remus is probably gone, after how I threw myself at him like a sex-famished whore."

Myrtle tittered. "Do you still swoon for the wolf?"

"I suppose, but I'm smart enough to understand that there's nothing to happen between us...romantically."

"There's some accurate insight there, Antie Rose."

Her eyes bugged out, she said, "It's official? You see it...us, not being...a couple?"

Myrtle tensed up, having broken the rule she'd told Toni about a night ago. "HUSH! I shan't say!"

"I need to know! Tell me, dammit!" Toni fought back.

"I'll bring Peeves in here!" Myrtle threatened. "I will if you don't quit it!"

"Now I'm freaked out! You told me I'm going to end up with one of the three men, and since Neville is out, and you've submitted what you gather on Remus...that leaves…" her heart hammered, "...oh fuck no."

"You're supposed to take your life one day at a time, you nincompoop! Curiosity killed the kitty! Since you're sooo curious, I'll let you know that you're going to dislocate your right hip later on in life. Ha! It's happening either tomorrow or in sixty years! Now you have to fret over just when!"

"Or I can prevent it from even taking place...in the wrong place," Toni giggled.

"I can see the handsome Slytherin man!" Myrtle shrieked, worked up. "He's in that secret room!"

"At this hour? I thought he left hours ago."

Myrtle screwed her eyes up in deep concentration. "He's been in there all night. His brain is convoluted again," she simpered, "like yours."

"Um, is he stressed out?"

"It would seem so. Would you like me to summon him?"

"Hell no! I'm stark nude!" she snorted.

"But you are single as of late, Annie. You are free to frolic with different boys now."

"I'm in no hurry."

"But you do savor his snogs, don't you? That Malfoy charmer can kiss, and spectacularly enough to leave you in a state of vertigo, isn't that right, Anne?"

"Stay out of my head! No, you're seeing it wrong. The way he touches me...it's professional, like he knows what the hell he's doing. He makes me uneasy and dizzy...and high. Yes, you're correct on the vertigo."

"Yes, yes, I do appreciate your honesty. So, what are you doing in here at six o'clock in the morning?"

"Insomnia had me throughout the night after, you know. I might have gotten some sleep here and there, but I was tossing and turning for the most part."

"Do you like talking to little ol' me, Annie Mary?"

"When you're not a complete nuisance. Say, what's Draco thinking about?"

"I can't pick up coherent thoughts. Emotions come through the clearest. He's groggy, it seems. Perhaps he's been napping here and there just as you were."

"I would go in there and pester him, but it doesn't do me any good. He's plotting something huge. It has to do with Voldemort. I can't get much out of him on it."

"How about you have him come in here for a bath. I can have a more eloquent peek at his sneaky mind then."

"No, I don't want him in here with me. He'll easily take advantage of me," she frowned.

"Then suggest it to him casually. Give him the password."

"He won't stick around long with you in here, I'd wager. You'd surely irritate him."

"I...would?!" she crowed, having taken offense to that.

"This is Draco Malfoy we're talking about, Myrt. Yes, many people do piss him off. He's contemptible."

"I'll hide in the stall then. He won't know I'm here."

That was feasible… "Okay, I'll give it a go."

"His brain should be rather fun to poke at and get buried in," Myrtle giggled.

"In the meantime, I need to assess just how I'm going to learn more on his mission, as he calls it."

"You ought to creep into his dorm at some time during the day when nobody else is in there, and you should rummage through the room for any clues."

"That's outrageously risky, Myrtle."

"But it'll be worth it, Annie. Don't you concurrrrr?" she drawled coyly.

"...Yes," Toni sighed. "If it worked out accordingly, then results might be stellar."

"Ah, indeed, Annie. You need to pick a day, then follow after one of the Snaky students to make it into their common room using your handy drapery of invisibility. Then, wait till one of the blond's roommates either enters or exits the dorm, then when the time is right, go in for the kill, hehe!"

"That's going to be more challenging than it sounds, Myrtle. Where I am to stand and wait until that happens? What if it took hours? What if someone bumped into me during that space of time? I can tell you that Slytherins don't take kindly to intruders of my kind in their habitat."

"You've been in there twice before, haven't you?"

"Yes, but I was in disguise as Pansy Parkinson the first time, and that was in second year, and the second time I was just barely allowed in by Theodore Nott when Draco permitted me to come in so I could have a word with him on his corrupt leadership as a prefect...and that only led to—oh it's not important-"

"A frenching!"

"...So, my chances of pulling this off are awful slim. I could bomb this to an impactful measure. Those Slyths are vengeful creatures. I wouldn't make it out of their ward without some scars, I'm sure."

Myrtle crossed her arms and kept silent deliberately, so as to persuade her otherwise with her own further considering. Burrowed a great depth in her, Toni was making plans to go about this, harshly dangerous as it was.

"I have my Marauder's map I could use to keep watch of the roommates, actually," she surmised. "There's this charm over the girls' dorms that prevents the guys from entering. I can only hope this doesn't apply contrariwise to the blokes' dorms. I think a weekend would suffice best for this...encroachment. I doubt they hang around in their dorm all day. Crabbe and Goyle probably go out to pubs in Hogsmeade. I couldn't guess what Blaise or Theodore do, but I'm sure they occupy their time somewhere other than their dorm, and Draco'll most likely be cooped up in the RoR, depending on what time I go through with this. Hm, but he's always in there anyway."

"Yippee! This would get my adrenaline pumping had I any! Sneaky Annie! This shall be quite a stealthy feat of you!"

"Yeah, we'll see. I'm still irresolute about this, brilliant as it kind of is."

* * *

As fate would have it, a disheveled Draco could be seen waltzing out of the outwardly empty space where the Room of Requirement was—precisely when Toni had made it to the seventh floor—naked and concealed in her bathrobe and slippers, a towel wrapped above her head, turban-style.

Their paths had not crossed, for he did not allow her passage when she didn't reply to him when addressed. She wasn't in the mood for this.

"C'mere, Potter," he said lowly, evidently tired as he rather confidently hugging her to him. She groaned in protest. "Did you dump Long-arse?"

"Yes, I did! And I broke his fucking heart!" she retorted while he breathed in and out over her moist neck. "I feel horrible about it…" she huffed dismally.

She felt his bared teeth on her neck—indicating his smirk. Oh, how she longed to hurl a knuckle into it—bust those ill-purposed pearls.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he derided, his hands working up and down her back.

She cringed at how she was accepting his affectionate embrace, as if he were her caring friend.

"I need to be alone." She pushed at his chest, though he inched back none. "Let go of me before someone sees us like this."

"It's six-thirty a.m. on a Sunday. No one's going to wander this hall for at least another half hour. Also, I haven't a damn to give if somebody spots us 'like this' anyhow."

She flinched. "You wouldn't want to ruin your reputation," she reminded him desperately.

"What reputation?" he scoffed.

"You know! Everyone knows you - you despise me, as I do you!"

Growling, he straightened up, his grab still at her waist. "Since you care so bleeding much." He fixed his gaze over her, all over her, ravenously. "Fuck, I could inhale you for hours."

She wanted to slap herself for letting her cheeks heat up. Collecting herself, she brought up that suggestion of Myrtle's.

"Why don't you go help yourself to a bath in the prefect's lavatory. My bare arse was just in there after all. Password is maple brittle."

"Join me."

"Fresh towels are set up on the rack by the sill. I'll run into you later, much as I dread it."

"Long-arse was holding you back, angel. If you'd quit being so chaste, I'd bring you the gratification we both thirst so pathetically."

"What? Do you want another kiss?" she sighed, too used to this act to be disgusted by doing it with him anymore.

"You know what I want, Potter." He released her. "I won't have you tease me with your sweet little mouth from here on out. I want all of you. I can no longer stand going hard for you only to be shunned away. I'm a worthless bastard. I get that, but as much as I'm that, you're a prude woman of an unhealthy amount of virtue. I'll be waiting in the shadows when your light goes out...Then again, it already has, hasn't it?"

He turned his back on her, preparing to render his brain to Myrtle unknowingly, and that, Toni anticipated with glee.


	25. Neville's Pardoning

**Chapter Twenty-Five  
_Neville's Pardoning_**

Although she'd strived to avoid it, Toni, by the start of February, had to admit to Hermione, Ron and Gin why Neville had been sitting at the end of their table by himself with a sad look for the last two weeks, and not with them, or more specifically, with Toni, happy with his arm linked around her.

"He's always been more of a friend to me," she gave timidly, apologetic emotion present as the three scrutinized her with countenances of _but why?_

"Dean and I are finding trouble in paradise just the same," Ginny said, as her boyfriend had been seated more than six students down from them conversing with Seamus.

"Lavender's getting too zealous, ya know, too clingy," Ron whispered, glimpsing down the table at his partner who was speaking to Parvati. "Told her she should catch up with the Patils. They haven't been hanging around together much recently anyway. I can hardly breathe."

Toni caught Hermione's ephemeral smirk.

"So, are you guys excited for our first Apparition lesson?" Toni asked Ron and Hermione, though also open to Fay who sat beside her, quietly picking at her dish of tortellini.

"Suppose so," Ron said monotonously.

"I don't think I can take the official test next month. Don't you have to be seventeen?" she went on.

"Yes," Hermione supplied. "The exam is on the Monday after Ron's birthday." She looked at Fay. "You said you're already seventeen?"

Fay nodded.

Only surrounding ramble went heard for a couple of minutes with little more on either of their heads until Luna took a seat beside Toni. She hummed in her own solitude while the others ate or daydreamed; it was a slow and tedious Wednesday.

"A hinkypunk rapped at my window last night," Luna brought up. "I let it in, seeing as how it was shivering terribly." She dumped some pudding onto a plate. "It slept at the foot of my bed, but when I woke up, it was gone."

"Disappeared without a trace, did it?" Toni yawned.

"They're known for not staying in one place for too long, as dad told me. They're adventurous, I'd say."

"Huh," Toni said, her left hand stabilizing her chin. "That's intriguing, Luna."

"You all are a boring group," Fay breathed at Toni, carefully silent. "At least Hannah, Katie and I can go on about anything. When we run out of stuff to say, out comes how my morning pee went."

Toni laughed. "We're all just sleepy, Fay. Our love lives are troublesome and we're stressed in general."

"Um, so do you all think Winky's having a boy or girl?" Fay asked to no one in particular.

"Who cares," Ron sighed, for Hermione to flash him a glare.

"I guess I'll be the first to take up the godparent's position when they ask," Toni said.

"Are elves even allowed godparents for their children?" Fay asked.

"I don't see why not," the redhead shrugged. "But I'd doubt it's common among their breed. Dobby told me that he was separated from his parents at birth."

"The majority of them are still treated as slaves," Hermione input. "Dobby and Winky's circumstances are...quite rare."

"I would like to be a godmother for their young," Luna said. "It'd be like playing the role of an aunt."

"I can barely wait to watch them become parents," Toni said delightfully.

"They'll be lucky if they can hold the thing properly," Ron tsked. "You've all seen their twig arms. Can't imagine they're able to carry half full buckets without straining their stringy tendons."

"And so we'll be there to assist," Toni interjected brightly.

"...Right," Ron replied halfheartedly, polishing off his cornbread.

…

"You've lost it, Ant. Utterly."

"Maybe I have, Fay, but I must have that information! This is the only way I can have a chance at getting it."

Turning the corner, Fay came to a halt and leant against the wall, holding an arm out to stop Toni. "You're seriously going to invade the Slytherin's common room, get into Draco's dorm and tear it up?" she asked incredulously.

"I...yes. I think I really am," Toni said, rolling her eyes. "I'm going to be very careful, fully alert and diligent. Not a sign will be left behind of me. They'll never know I was even in there, I promise."

"You can't promise or be so sure, Ant!" Fay argued. "One of them could come in suddenly, and what do you believe they're gonna do when they see you fishing around in their wardrobe?"

"But you see, I have this map that locates everyone's whereabouts within the castle, so I'm able to keep watch. If one of them even nears the common room, I'll ditch the place."

"You're just begging for hot water here," Fay said. "Something could go wrong. This won't go as you envision it, Ant. The actual situation will be very different, I'm certain."

"I have my invisibility cloak too…" Toni said. "It'll keep me out of their sight, if one of them does happen to barge in unexpectedly."

"I've got to get to Flitwick's," Fay huffed. "I'll get you to snap out of this idiotic scheme later during lunch."

"Bye," Toni waved.

…

"So what've we got?" Toni wriggled out of her jeans unceremoniously. "Tell me that what you um, dug up, was efficient."

"Oh, I did get quite the picture," Myrtle cooed. "Looking into his brains was like watching a film. It was nostalgic in how I went to the cinemas with my mum before I found out I was magical waaaay back in 1940."

"...And? So what did you see?!" Toni urged on.

"Ooh, dear Annie would lower herself to her knees and grovel for this bit of data, wouldn't she? Tehe!"

"I would definitely! Now tell me!"

"Hm, let me ponder on it."

"Don't play this game with me, dammit!" She stomped into the pool. "This was your blasted idea, so it would be fair if you'd tell me what you got from him!"

"Yelling at me will not bring you what you so desire to hear!" the phantom shouted in Toni's face. "You know how I just detest that rude attitude!"

"Sorry! I'm - I'm sorry, alright?" she defended, submerging. "This is extremely important to me, Myrtle. He's already badly hurt a girl a year ahead of me with whatever he's doing, or trying to do. Whatever you saw...You need to tell me for the sake of everybody else. Who knows, the nasty git might kill someone next."

"I will not be used! You only come in here to ask for details on things you shouldn't acknowledge anyway! You don't even want to be my friend!"

"I will be your friend if you help me out, Myrtle! You're the only one who can."

"I think not!"

"Listen, I swear I will never return to this bath if you don't tell me! You'll be alone, all by yourself, and nobody else will want to talk to your outlandish bum. You wouldn't want that, would you?" Toni inveigled, well aware of just how this would unsettle the spirit.

"...You would not dare," Myrtle snapped.

Toni rose. "I will."

"FINE! It was all over, quite disarranged, that mind was. His thoughts were untidy and in fragments. He kept jumping from one thing to another. He was feeling muddled, scared, and frighteningly angry. I could make out some splotches of an office somewhere in this castle. Couldn't guess what room."

"Describe it. I might figure it out."

"It was spacious, and there were lots of bottles, big and small. There was this large table in the middle of this room. There was also this man, a heavy man with a mustache standing in there, so-"

"Wait! Uh, it might have been Professor Slughorn in his office." She frowned. "Why would he be thinking about that?...Er, carry on."

"He kept focusing on this single bottle, a tall one that was marked as mead. That same fancy cabinet was thought up a lot of the fifteen minutes he was soaking where you are. You were within his skull too, Antie Rosemary," Myrtle giggled. "He removed your clothing and undergarments in this one mull. He touched you in forbidden places, and he-"

"No! Just tell me about the cabinet! I don't want to hear about that other perverted crap."

"He had to accomplish something, what exactly, I couldn't gather. Whatever it is, it's beating him into a nervous little boy, Annie."

"Oh, Myrtle, that's awful vague," Toni sighed. "Overall, what can you conclude from what you could gather?"

"His actions are probably going to harm others."

"Hold on, you told me you could see into my future...So, couldn't you see into his?"

"I only read into his brain for what it was at the time, Anne, just as you asked. I might have taken a peep at some upcoming events. He's to face something _big_ early in 2000, but I shan't-"

"Answer me this, for crying out loud," Toni burst. "Will his actions kill anybody?"

"He's not sure. However, he's to perform a very naughty deed."

"Myrtle, concentrate, love. _What_ is the deed?"

"You can't know," Myrtle said succinctly. "It'll undo what's to occur, and in a way, that'll have a fatalistic effect. It's all sort of predetermined, Annie. Everything will go by as it needs to. You just have to accept it for what it is."

"Complicated child!" Toni thundered, fairly upset. Rising, she said, "Thanks to you, I'm going to brood about this until whatever happens...happens!"

"Such a worry wart, Annie Mary! When will you just pop your fester and let all the silliness fret the minds of people who aren't you?"

"This isn't silliness; it's torture! I've already lost my parents, Cedric, and my godfather, you sad wraith! You-Know-Who's going to be crashing in at some point and I'm going to lose more people I love!"

"Death is life!" Myrtle chimed. "You live life, you give life, and you lose life during the course of your life! In other words, you're born, you give birth, and you DIE! Just like little ol' me! And I didn't even get to experience the second one!"

"Forget you, Myrtle. There's a wonderfully pessimistic bartender I can whine to."

"The Headmaster's kin won't fix you!"

"Neither will you."

…

Entering her common room in her robe, her arms stuffed with her other clothing, Neville sat in Toni's peripheral view. She whipped her head in his direction to see him lying slothfully in a recliner against the wall, his eyes closed.

'_Do I tip toe to the dorm?'_ she wondered, '_Or do I don a pair and confront him?'_

In love with the prospect of once more being his friend, she chose the latter, fondly recalling the day they became friends on the first day of their first year in potions—after Snape humiliated him for proving his less than adequate brewing skills. Taking gradual steps towards him, she eventually took her seat in the partnering recliner. She touched his arm, giving a light jab to rouse him. His eyes widened when he saw her.

"Oh, it's you."

.

.

.

_Reminisce: Fall of 1991 - Bottled Shame and Brewed Worry_

"Isn't this place glorious, Ronald?"

"Yeah, but my older brothers have already told me so much that I was sort of expecting this," Ron said, as he and Toni walked through the dungeons for their first potions class. "Fred was right about this area. The dungeons aren't too appealing, don't you agree?"

Toni's eyes flickered around as she grimaced. "Yes, it is quite dark and cold down here...and creepy. Gives me the heeby jeebies."

"All my brothers agree that Professor Snape is the most cruel teacher. We'll try to sit in the back of the room so that maybe he won't bother us too much."

"Oh, geez. How bad is-"

"POTTER!" a shrill voice echoed from down the corridor.

Both Gryffs turned to see Malfoy and his henchboys, Crabbe and Goyle, striding forth. Nausea hit Toni as she abstractedly grabbed Ron's wrist, muttering, "Let's hurry to class. This freak wouldn't leave me alone last night."

As Ron and Toni picked up their pace, so did the Slytherins. Just another few turns and they would be there according to their timetables, but the nearing trio had their wands aimed, the blond to warn, "Stop right there, you two!" Reluctantly, both complied, gulping as the three made their approach. "I need to have a private word with Potter, Weasel, so go on ahead," Draco said.

"No, Malfoy, I'm not leaving her alone with you and your obtuse friends," the ginger countered.

At that, Draco shoved him aside to dive for the girl. Taking her by her shoulders, Draco snapped his fingers curtly and said, "Hold him back, Crabbe and Goyle, while I discuss matters over with the girl."

Either boy nodded, each gripping an arm of Ron's while Draco forced the fretful girl onward.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she hissed.

"I've decided to forgive what you said to me yesterday, Potter. Rude as it was of you to decline my offer, I'm letting it slide. I'm giving you a second chance to make a wiser decision."

"I've already made my decision! And it was damn wise enough! You are far too mean and prejudiced to be considered a buddy of mine, Draco!"

"You're going to sit with me and my men," he said lowly, tightening his hold on her. "We may not have been sorted into the same House, but I heard what the Hat said, Potter. He wanted badly to put you in Slytherin, but you refused him. You see, you belong in Slytherin, whether you like it or not. I'm going to help you adapt to our nature. You'll prefer it over what that vagrant back there has to provide. You'll see, even if it takes a bloody long while."

"I'll tell on you! I'll report you to the professor!" she complained.

He snickered as they entered the classroom. "Report me for what? Offering my friendship?"

"Well, I...yes! The way you're going about it is inappropriate!"

"Over here," he said, pushing her forward to the table in front of the room, much to her distaste. As Crabbe and Goyle lumbered in with Ron in their guard, Draco said, "Crabbe, you sit right there, then Potter will sit here so that she's in between us. We're reforming her starting today."

"Piss off, Malfoy!" Ron barked. "Leave her alone!"

"Cram it, Weasel. You go sit somewhere back there or else I'll swat your girlfriend," Draco berated the red-faced Gryff. "And I'll sick my mates on you," he finished, his mates cracking their knuckles for emphasis.

To Toni's fear, Ron cowered, and he backed away, mumbling, "I'll see you later, Toni," retreating to the back row just as Malfoy had ordered.

"Sicko," Toni growled as Draco pushed her down into a chair.

"Will she be re-sorted into Slytherin once she's reformed?" Goyle asked.

"Don't be a cretin, Goyle. You can't be re-sorted once you've been officially sorted," Draco explained hostily. "But she _will_ be under our jurisdiction. That, I can guarantee."

"No! I will not be!" she argued. When she tried to get away to sit elsewhere, Crabbe glued her in place, his clutch on her forearm overbearing. "Release me, you baboon!"

"She's going to be hard to tame, Draco. She keeps fighting against us; her betters," Goyle observed. "Don't ya think maybe we're better off jurisdict-ing Greengrass or Davis?"

"No, you dunce. Potter here needs to be disciplined," Draco explained, slipping his arm around her side and pursing his lips at her left ear to murmur, "We're going to be best friends."

"Best friends, my arse!" she snarled, jumping in her seat moments later when the chamber's door swung open with a creak to slam closed.

"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class," the professor apprised concisely, his deep voice quaking the spines of many of the kids. Standing at the podium just a short distance from the front table where Toni and her three jurisdictors sat, he continued, "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making, however, for those...select few," he tilted his head down to eye Draco in notable referral, "who possess the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death…" He shifted his gaze to the girl beside Draco. "Miss Potter," he announced, his glints nailed to her.

"Um, hi, sir," she said sheepishly.

His previously stern mien softened somewhat as he studied her timorous facade.

"Can you tell me, Miss Potter, what I would get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

His inquiry sunk in, but she had no correct answer to return. "I'm not sure, sir."

Crabbe and Goyle snorted, to which the prof passed either of them a glower before addressing his next question.

"Let's try again. Where would you look, Miss Potter, if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

She raised an auburn brow and dissected his statement as best as she could, but she had never even heard of a bezoar…

"I'm sorry, but I don't know."

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" he continued.

Now blushing madly, she mumbled, "I'm not sure. Please, sir, can you call on somebody different? You see, I was raised by...muggles, so I probably um, won't know...a lot of your questions...yet." Her features lit up then. "But I found your introduction to be q-quite lovely, professor. I found what you said about ensnaring the senses and, um, bewitching the mind to be particularly beautiful sounding."

Her beam simmered down when the prof narrowed his eyes at her.

"Trying to score my courtesy already, Miss Potter?" he asked darkly, apparently offended by her compliment. Stepping from his podium, he slid a stool in front of the table, plopped into it and leant in to look intently at the girl. "To eliminate your ignorance, Miss Potter, I'll have you know that asphodel with wormwood will make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat that will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant which also goes by the name of aconite…" He hushed then, his blacks stuck on her worried greens. He'd lost himself in them momentarily until he tore them downward, enunciating, "Well, why aren't you all copying this down?"

Immediately, the class dug out their parchment and began taking notes using their ink and quills. Snape retired to his desk going on, "Gryffindors, note that five points will be taken from your House...for your classmate's cheek."

Toni gasped, loudly enough for Draco to hear and chortle at. "Excellent start, Potter," Draco teased quietly. "I didn't think your House would loathe you so soon, though."

"It was a compliment!" she said exasperated. "How was _that_ cheek?!"

"Five more points from Gryffindor," Snape announced, ogling the impudent Gryff. "I'd advise keeping your trap sealed, young lady."

She groaned to herself with thinned lips, sulking in her seat, no longer even noticing Crabbe's sharp and persisting grip on her throbbing forearm which he was cutting the blood circulation from.

"Looks like she needs more discipline than we thought," Crabbe grumbled.

"I don't know, Crabbe. Her misbehavior is costing her House points," Draco reasoned slyly. "She's taking us in the lead!"

"Shut up!" she scorned. "And tell this oaf to let me go! My hand's turning purple he's squeezing so hard!" she spoke hardly above a whisper, scanning the teacher cautiously, making sure she hadn't disrupted him from his jotting.

"Alright, Crabbe, let her loose," the blond directed. "She's not going anywhere."

When his clutch slackened, her fingers prickled and her whole forearm and hand throbbed in relief. She bit back a whimper at the overwhelming feeling of re-regulated blood flow, mindful of the prof's strictness and obvious dislike towards her and her House. Snape, still invested in whatever he was scribbling down, allowed Toni a fleeting chance to shake her right hand to help get some feeling back and rid the tingling numbness.

Draco, taking note of how scarlet her little hand had went, taunted, "Want me to kiss it better, Potter?"

She swallowed a comeback as the professor practically snuck out of his seat, very suddenly before the class again. "For your initial assignment today, I've placed you into groups of three. When I call your name, you will stand, and two more students will accompany you at your table," he instructed. "There is one group consisted of a pair of two students, due to this classes even number." His eyes bounced over to Toni yet again. "Potter, you will be with Mister Neville Longbottom at the right end of the table behind you."

A warm notion poured over the girl as Draco sighed in protest. She smiled as Snape whipped down his list of groups, the students to then move to their designated spots. Neville was an edgy, chubby-faced Gryffindor whom Toni first saw calling after his toad, Trevor, the last night before the sorting.

He regarded her diffidently, holding out his quivering hand, confusing her as to why he was sorted in the House of valor and bravery, for he seemed more a Hufflepuff to her. Grinning amiably, she shook his hand and introduced herself.

With noise from the chattering students around them, Toni assumed it was now safe to unseal her trap. "He's bitter, isn't he?" she murmured, leaning in closer to the boy to prevent the prof from overhearing. "The professor. He was picking on me for no reason."

"Y-yeah," Neville nodded, saying no more.

"Here on the board I am leaving instructions for how to brew your forgetfulness elixirs. Follow accordingly and your result should be near perfect. Every ingredient you'll require is provided for you, labeled for indication," Snape said as he wrote.

"Let's add two drops of Lethe River Water," Toni said, eyeing their counter for that vial. "If you don't mind my asking, what is your status, muggle-born, half-blood or pure? I'm kinda curious. I'm a half-blood as I've discovered just a month ago, 'cause my mum was muggle-born and my dad was pureblooded."

"Oh, um, I'm pureblooded," Neville answered shyly. "Raised by my grandmother."

"Oh, um are your parents passed on too?" she asked woefully.

"Um no, but they are…" he gulped, "mentally ill. They live at a hospital called St. Mungos."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said sadly.

He chewed at his bottom lip with crestfallen eyes, handing her a minuscule vial. "I think this is what we're looking for."

She took it and sprinkled in the two droplets. "Now we let it heat for twenty seconds," she said. "So how is Trevor doing? He hasn't hopped off someplace, has he?"

Neville chucked. "No, he's in his aquarium in my dorm, safe and sound, I hope."

"I have a pet owl named Cher. She's gorgeous with these satin feathers and huge yellowish eyes. She was the prettiest in Eeylops for sure."

"Hehe. Best keep her away from Trevor. Don't birds like to eat amphibians?"

"Um, I think so," she replied smiling. "Don't worry. I'll be sure to keep her out of your toad's path. Okay, hand me two Valerian sprigs if you see them," she instructed, analyzing their working space.

"Here," he said, placing a couple of twig-like substances in her palm.

"Now we stir three times, clockwise," she said, using the provided baton to stir the bubbling liquid.

"I left my wand in my rucksack, could you…?"

Neville nodded, pulling his own wand from his pocket to swish it over the cauldron—for it to tremble violently, nearly flopping and spilling its contents. Both hearts raced at the sight.

"O-kay," Toni breathed as the pot stilled once more. "We get to leave it be for the next forty-five minutes."

"Oh good," Neville huffed, at ease.

"I'm thankful we're partners, Neville. That Malfoy boy over there thinks he has me at his full blown control. He's quite a bully, you see. He's of pureblood like you are, but he's a prat about it, judging others who he believes are 'lesser' than him. He's lousy."

"I've heard things," the brunet boy said. "I think we both need to watch out," he mumbled.

"Last night on the train, Ronald Weasley told me about his dad. Apparently, he was proven to have worked for Voldemort, but he was found innocent on trial because he claimed he was under the Imperius Curse. Both Ron and I agreed that his dad, being quite rich and all, probably made that story up and paid himself out of any trouble."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Neville nodded.

"If I have to watch out, then I guess I will." She tossed a glimpse over where the Slyth trio was to witness Draco smacking Goyle's arm whilst shaking his head in probable annoyance. "I was talking to Ron on the way to this class, but Draco and his minions basically ambushed us so that Ron was held captive by Crabbe and Goyle while Draco dragged me in here and required me to sit by him and Crabbe."

"Um, which one's Crabbe?" Neville asked, eyeing the trio with uncertainty.

"The fattest one," Toni giggled shamelessly.

"Oh! I see him," he laughed cutely.

"Anyone could see him from miles away," she said brightly.

"Are their actual names Crabbe and Goyle?" he asked.

"Their last names, yes. I think Goyle's first name is Gregory, as I remember from the ceremony last night, but I forgot Crabbe's."

"I have a terrible memory. My grandmother gets upset with me whenever I forget her birthday, but a lot of times I don't even remember my own!" he laughingly confessed.

"When is your birthday?"

"Er, the thirtieth of July."

"Wow, mine's the day straight after! That's neat," she smiled.

Honoring this second flowering bond, she was thrilled to have encountered the serendipitous and blessed to have been excluded from partnering up with Draco and one of his dull associates. Neville was showing himself as a true gentleman, and though he was a hint craven, Toni appreciated this quirk, being a tad antsy herself in all integrity.

…

Forty-five rotations of the minute hand had them adding four measures of mistletoe berries to crush and stir into medium-fine powder in their mortar. Toni added two pinches of the mixture into the cauldron to then stir five times anti-clockwise.

"Okey-doke, Neville, now give your wand a wave above this and we should be all ducky," the witch said, enlivened at the prospect of the strict prof approving their well-done brew, hence improved treatment on her behalf depending on just how satisfied he would be with this concoction. However, all joy and optimism was robbed of her when the cauldron outright flipped over—all contents splattering onto the table, the droplets that did land on them scalding them, and the space a viscous, piping, syrupy mess.

"N-Neville! What did you…?"

"Um! I didn't mean to-"

"Oh no! The professor's taken notice!" she whimpered hushedly, the teacher striding to them, his expression bemused.

"What's happened over here?" he inquired with a sneer as the two sat weakened in shock.

"We followed the instructions explicitly, professor!" Toni exclaimed, her ears filling with the other childrens' snickering. "Neville just waved his wand over this and it - it just tipped over…"

Exhaling through the flared nostrils of his oversized nose, Snape muttered a quick "scourgify" while pointing his wand at the puddle for it to vanish without a remaining dapple. Neville and Toni took a breather, their spirits raised seeing as how their accident was taken care of so easily, but the news to come would lessen that in a jiffy.

"That's an earned zero for this rudimentary assignment, Miss Potter and Mister Longbottom," Snape spoke, much to their bewilderment. Swiping his blacks at both of them fastly, he added, "Ten points shall be taken between you both as well. Let this be a lesson to not make such foolish mistakes in the next."

"But, sir-"

"I will have no more effrontery of you today, nor for the rest of the week, Potter," he warned before stalking off back to his desk.

Three minutes after this episode, the Slytherins were given fifteen points thanks to Draco and his men's flawless potion. Neville and Toni had nothing more to say to one another in the last few minutes of class. After they waved each other goodbye, Toni moped back to the front table to pick up her rucksack, the trio already crept around her. Ignoring them, she fished through her bag in search of her timetable, her nerves spiking upon not locating it.

"Looks like she's got charms with us too at the same hour," Goyle said, alarming the girl massively as her schedule was in his mitts.

"Hand it over to me, Goyle. I've got to ensure you're correct on that," Draco said, yanking the parchment from his grip.

"You were digging through my personal belongings?!" she snapped as Draco nodded to Crabbe.

Meaty fingers scraped at her robe as she was escorted out of the class at the Slytherins' rule. Rage had her on the brink of crying as Draco studied her class hours for that first day, not shoving it back to her for roughly forty seconds.

"You pulled a smooth act back in there, Potter. I'm impressed," Draco mocked.

Struggling to free herself from her colossal captor, she retaliated, "It's not my fault he hates me. I haven't done anything to provoke him like that. It was senseless harassment."

"He's Head of our House, girl. That's excuse enough, I'd say," Crabbe noted.

"But he's a grown man! Mistreating me for...that reason is immature in my eyes," she said.

"Doesn't matter. He's sees ya for what scum ya are," Goyle butted in.

"The three of you are unbelievably dumb," she scoffed. "Naming me off as scum purely because I am in Gryffindor."

"When'll she be reformed, Draco? I just wanna punch the bitch black and blue this moment," Goyle sighed.

"It's going to be a process, Goyle, so cool it," Draco explained, stealing her left hand to lift it up to his face and examine it. "I see your hand is pale once more, Potter," he said, laying pecks onto it, making her blush a velvet hue.

"What...are you doing?" she mumbled, feeling uneasy at both the view and touch of his mouth on the back of her hand.

"What's it look like?" he derided, entwining his fingers through hers to hold it at his side. "I'm paying you affection."

"Well, don't. I don't want that from you," she muttered, clearly embarrassed.

"Ungrateful, ain't she, Draco?" Crabbe pointed out, hurting her with his thick finger pads at her back.

"Indeed, she is," Draco returned, motioning them towards their charms class as they departed the dungeons. "You _like_ that retard, Long-butt, Potter?"

"That was rude. He is not a retard, you bully. He was just nervous. You're destined to ruin some potions in time yourself."

"Answer my question," Draco said.

"Why, yes, I do. He is sweet and quite friendly."

"I don't want you hanging by him. He'll shape you into a hopeless moron that we won't be able to repair," Draco declared.

"I don't need repairing!" she retorted. "You certainly do, you judgmental jerk!"

"We're here, Draco," Goyle announced.

Crabbe barreled her in with him as Draco guided them to an area far back in the room. The four mimicked the class prior's routine. Identifying Ron and Neville as they entered, Toni impulsively rose, but was trapped to her place at Crabbe's custody.

"They're my friends! Please, I promise I'll sit with you during lunch," she pleaded, as Neville grinned and waved shyly at her. Seeing him, she beckoned him with her widened eyes and free hand.

"Take your seat, Potter," Draco calmly demanded.

"Would you at least call me by Antonia, or even Toni-"

"Uh, hullo, A-Antonia."

The nastiest of scowls were set on the bashful Gryff in front of them while Toni was frowning in worry for his part.

"W-would you like to sit by me this hour?" Neville dared to ask, surely setting off the poorly tempered blond.

"The fuck are you trying to pull off, you chipmunk-faced simpleton?" Draco snorted, successfully killing any ego Neville might have still had leftover after that problematic potion's chastising. "I'll have Crabbe here squash your precious toad if you refuse to trot on your way, loser."

Toni sat perplexed, too stunned at the ridiculousness for words or comprehension. Neville turned beetroot as he went on his way after stuttering an apology. It seemed Toni was doomed, and stuck at a major loss here.

.

.

.

"Yeah, it's me." She sat in the adjoining chair. "Be my friend, Neville."

"We are friends, Antonia, but I don't forgive you at this point."

"Why don't you sit with us during meals anymore?"

He shrugged. "Suppose I'm too hurt to want to be anywhere near you."

"Now you're being a tad selfish, Neville."

"You were selfish in attacking our former professor like you did. You could have broken it off with me before deciding to attempt a romance with Remus."

"It was spur of the moment, Neville! I never would have imagined in a million years that I would do that up until...until it did...until I did it, and I do regret it."

"How long have you fancied him?"

"I crushed on him from our third year…" She shook her head, leaning forward to rest her head in her hands. "I don't even think I have sexual feelings for him anymore."

"You're not just saying that for the hell of it to try and lighten up my regards for you?"

She considered this over. "I...think I'm serious." Her gut knotted up as the reality of it caved in. "...I think…" she mumbled, perhaps not willing with her heart to be sure about this.

Neville sighed. "I'll let this go, and I'll forgive you, Antonia, but not tonight. I'll admit I'm probably a little arrogant in respecting and finding relief in your lacking infatuation for Remus." A pause followed. "...Maybe some part of me does forgive you."

"But what's to be forgiven? How were we ever really dating, Neville?" she reasoned bluntly.

"Have you kissed Ron?"

She guffawed. "Of course not!"

"Well, we did, here and there. Yeah, not quite as often as other couples do, but we were something, Antonia, and the fact that your antics broke my heart remains still."

And so he was final. There was no more to say or try futilely to convince. That was that for now.

* * *

Fay peered their dim setting warily, being new to Ab's. "I didn't even think there was a place creepier than The Hobgoblin," she said.

"Love it in here," Toni disagreed, slurping her rocked vodka, twitching as it burned down her throat. "Now we can vent to Ab together."

"Um, does he give nice pointers?"

"No, he just listens. Sometimes he'll toss back an opinion."

"...Oh."

Toni looked out to the barman who was slouched over the counter, his gaze half-lidded at a patron who was chatting. Pessimism aside, Ab was a God send, especially when the witch was at her worst.

"Neville's coming round to dropping your eh, misdeed, then?" Fay asked, tentatively sipping her hard cider.

"So it seems. The bloke knows he's my pal, and has been from the first day of school way back in first year."

"Do you feel bad?"

"In what sense?"

"In the way you broke up with him...and how you kind of...sort of cheated on him."

Toni downed her glass. "Yes, I'm remorseful."

"So, anyone have your interest now that you're single?" Fay winked.

"Not at all, actually. I don't plan to date again for a while. I've got too much to worry about and busy myself with. You know I still haven't gotten ahold of that thought of Slughorn's that Albus needs. He got irritated with me this afternoon when he summoned me to his office. He reminded me of how imperative it is that I collect this memory of the old coot's...Went on about how it contains a horcrux, thereby connecting us to You-Know-Who."

"What's a horcrux?"

"Mm, it's um, like this object that an evil witch or wizard hides a piece of their soul in. In my unfortunate case, Voldemort has seven scattered about, but I already took care of one back in second year. It was in his old diary. I stabbed through it...destroyed the blasted thing after slaughtering this giant snake using the Sword of Gryffindor. It was quite the coup for my twelve-year-old self."

Fay was taken aback.

"Hey! Mr. Dumbledore!" Toni hollered.

Ab trod to her frowning. "I thought I told ye not to call me by that, miss! Last thing I could use is my customers bombardin' me on the grandness of my overvalued brother."

"May I have a refill?"

As he went off, Fay became exhilarated. "You didn't tell me he's the head's brother!"

"He's so different from him that sometimes I forget they're even brothers," Toni said. "They're not close. Their younger sister was accidentally shot and killed with a hex when they were teenagers. Ab doesn't know whether to blame himself or Albus."

"Merlin, how tragic," Fay murmured.

"Here ye are," Ab broke in, dropping her order before her.

"Well, I've been devising it out, and I think I'm taking action on the weekend after Valentines Day."

"...Taking action for what?"

"You know, the intervention in the Slytherins' dorm."

"Ant, no!" Fay reproved. "Are you stupid?!"

"I might be, but this has to be done. Time is running out, Fay. Draco's got something...well, bad under his sleeve. Searching his personal living space might result in evidence. Anything unusual I find could help."

"Antonia, I need you to promise me you won't do such a hazardous thing," Fay said, fraught, "because if you go about this, I will tell the headmaster."

"You won't."

"And I'll tell Hermione and Ron."

Toni rolled her eyes with a stoic face. "Alright, fine, I won't."

"I can't trust that," Fay said, shaking her head. Leaning in closer, she whispered, "There's this spell where you can solidify a promise. Once you dedicate your pledge, you can't go against it, or you'll-"

"Die, yes," Toni sighed. "The Unbreakable Vow. I'm familiar with it. Tried it out weeks ago myself, didn't care for it."

Fay jerked upright with a gasp. "Blimey, Ant, I was just threatening you with that! Merlin, I wouldn't actually…"

Planting her due amount onto the counter, Toni got to her feet and pulled her coat on. "I'm calling it a night. We've got class tomorrow and I've got to figure out how I'm going to win that damn memory from Horace. I'm about ready to use the Imperius Curse on his arse."

"I'm not trying to frustrate you. I'm just trying to keep you from really hurting yourself, Ant."

"I've been hurt so much already, Fay. It defines me. Whatever goes amiss shouldn't hinder my well-being too seriously. Are you coming or do you wish to tattle me off to Ab? He won't give half a rat's arse, just to let you know."

"You're careless," Fay muttered.

"I'm doing it in a couple of weeks."

"When all fails, don't come crying to me."

"I'm a big girl. I can manage myself," Toni assured her before making her exit.


	26. The Intervention

_*****Potentially sensitive sequence contained_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six  
_The Intervention_**

'_8 February_

_In seven days I will be checking the map later in the afternoon. When the dorm is vacant, I will get to work immediately. I'm heading down to the dungeons with my wand, cloak, pillowcase (for what I take) and map. I'll cover up in the cloak by their common room's entrance and dash inside once someone or preferably a group of people say the password, or if I overhear it, I'll say it before the wall and sneak in on my own accord, which might work out better._

_I wait until one of the roommates comes along and heads down to their dorm, then I follow behind till they reach it. I stay put outside, and when they leave, I give the unlocking charm a try, keeping trust that it will bring me luck. From there on, I delve their drawers, wardrobes, heck, their beds as well. Nothing is to go without a thorough investigation. Once I accomplish all I can, I restore everything back to the way it was before my invasion._

_I'm limiting myself to fifteen minutes max. If anyone should come by, I hide under the cloak and pray to go unseen. I will if done in time. This is going to be the greatest risk of my life, and I'm going to make the most of it.'_

* * *

"You knew I wasn't the heir of Slytherin."

They were occupying the RoR like every other Saturday night. Draco and Toni were voicing whatever spontaneous muses occurred to them. The spotlit events of their second year came into discussion, and so that statement went audible without wise consideration.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows and looked at her funnily from his chair. "How did you know that? I don't recall having ever told _you_ that..."

In belated realization, her breathing hitched in her chest. She almost wanted to smack herself for speaking out so quickly. "Um...you did, actually, on our first meeting up here...remember?"

He shook his head, quite sure of himself. "I told Pansy and Crabbe that...must have been around four years ago." He narrowed his eyes on her skeptically. "...You were hiding somewhere in there that night..." he scoffed, "eavesdropping...Been a hobby of yours longer than I thought..."

"No-"

"A little late to go back on your word, sweetheart. I'm just trying to figure out exactly where you hid...couldn't have been behind Crabbe and Pansy's couch...but..."

"Draco, I'm telling you, I didn't-"

"You were sprawled behind _my_ couch...sneaky little minx, you are, Pott-"

"I _was_ Pansy!" she blurted, unable to let him go on believing what was not the truth. "That night...Ron, Hermione and I had taken polyjuice potion. I'd taken a hair of Pansy's from her robe during transfigurations, Ron had gotten Crabbe's by lacing a cupcake with sleeping draught for him to—without a doubt—scarf down while it floated midair, uncaring to its earlier whereabouts...and 'Mione was aiming to be Millicent Bulstrode, and she was going to tag along with us, but...she accidentally swapped a cat hair...and results were rather hairy." After having explained herself, she looked up to see Draco more puzzled than she'd ever seen him previously.

"...Damn. I thought those two were acting bizarre...Shame I didn't catch it at the time. Then again, when I questioned those two later on they looked at me as if I'd lost my mind."

"Would you have beaten us if you'd noticed?" she laughed.

"I probably would have done something that would have treated me to expulsion," he snickered. "Doubt you or the weasel would be functioning well to this day either."

"You don't think Ron could kick your arse?"

"Not if he were paralyzed," he snorted. "I'm sure even your pusillanimous ex would take him down in a brawl."

"Don't mention him," she said. "He's having trouble forgiving me."

"I can't blame the bastard. I deemed you filth too when you told me you virtually shagged the wolf."

"I was not going to sleep with him."

"Are you now hoping to get with Lupin now that you've left Long-tush?"

"Remus made himself clear. He's too sophisticated to touch me. That kiss was a one-time deal."

"I think that means you're all mine," he deduced. "If you submit yourself up as my territory, I'll take care of you. I'd go as far as to worship you."

"...I don't need that."

"You're blushing, pet," he pointed out hotly. "Don't deny your fondness to the potentiality."

"Draco, I've held a difficult relationship with myself for the last sixteen and a half years. I can hold off on being a girlfriend. I need to sort a lot out with myself before I even think about dating again."

"Okay, Potter, when you discover yourself and solve your petty little problems, will you lose your panties for me?"

"Not if you're still the way you are."

"This is who I am. You best get used to it because I'm finished. This is me, alright? Open yourself up to _this_."

"Draco, I will not," she scorned, shaking her head. "You're devastatingly hostile and egocentric. I do not admire either of those traits, and I won't train myself to."

"You're a real piece of work. I've displayed my feelings for you, and I'd gamble all my possessions that you're plastered to my deliberations more so than those of everyone you've ever met combined, and this is what I get in turn."

"Resign your position from your Lord and be nice. Rid your greed and bigoted views over muggles and witches and wizards born out of their world and you can have all of me, Malfoy. You really can." She nodded, personally giving credence to these words for when he would actually purify himself, which was bound to happen when pigs flew.

Their breathing alone was exchanged for the next minute as both of them wondered what more to spit out. Counting all the junk piled every which way didn't do wonders in conferring her with something more to add on to her oath, but it did assist in boring her to oblivion. Another five minutes ticked on before Draco spoke.

"What goes through your mind when we kiss?"

"We don't kiss. You kiss me, and it's typically unpleasant."

"You've kissed me on your own terms three times before, love." He raised a fist to lift his index finger. "The first time in fifth year in my office on a treaty," he lifted his middle, "second to keep my trousers on, and that goodnight peck just days ago."

"Confusion and guilt go through my mind," she said. "I feel that our kissing is illicit...wrong."

"Why? Because your friends would reject you if they knew?"

"Well, because it comes from you. I'm not exactly attracted to you, so the whole act always feels weird."

"But you do prefer it to our fighting?" he reasoned.

"Don't do this."

"Answer me."

"I guess," she shrugged. "I've got to get to bed."

He nodded to his left where the mattress was.

"No, I'm not sleeping up here."

"You don't trust me?"

"Yes, and my dorm is warmer."

"Right. I'll be seeing you."

…

She struggled to pass out that night with what she was to do, notwithstanding its date being a week ahead. The following night she struggled worse, and the four days after were exceedingly hectic. Fay sat with her other friends during all meals that week, patently disappointed in Toni.

The fourteenth was lonely for her and Hermione. That morning, Draco had caught up with her in the hallway and recommended that she "get into the holiday spirit" and meet him upstairs that evening for a tryst, and she swore she would just to shut him up. Toni laughed to herself as she laid in bed reading through one of Hermione's Vogue magazines as Draco awaited her in their hang-out. She hadn't been cheery since before Myrtle had suggested she raid the Slyths' dormitory to begin with. The gaiety was soothing, but it would not last.

.

.

.

_Reminisce: Fall of 1992 - A House-Elf's Care_

The Slytherins were not delighted to have lost their first game of the season. Their Captain, Marcus Flint, was particularly displeased.

After the game, Toni, Hermione and Ron were sauntering the corridor leading to the first flight, their minds set on celebrating their House's win in the common room, when Toni found her hand in someone else's. Turning to admonish Draco, she was surprised to see Flint dragging her back from where she'd come and at a speedy pace.

"Marcus? What are you-"

"Closet of Filch's round the curve," he clarified tersely.

She disinclined, getting the impression with a blush. "No, I'm not going to make-out with you in a closet just because you're fussy that you lost the game."

Backing her to the wall with his hands on her shoulders, he countered, "You mind me, Potter. Quidditch is not just some game to me. It is a vital token of my bleeding life." Lightening his grip, he sighed, "You are gorgeous, Potter. So sweet…" he leant in, "I like you, although I shouldn't, and all I ask of you is one measly kiss-"

"Get away from her, Flint," Ron said, his wand in the air with Hermione at his side looking concerned.

Scoffing, Marcus told Weasley to stay out this and Hermione dictated the regulations apropos to eighteen-year-old men, being legal adults, getting romantically involved with twelve-year-old girls, but in spite of a potential sentence in Azkaban, the seventh year chased after the redhead when she bolted down the corridor when his deformed mouth traversed into her personal space a tad much.

She ran for the stairs, taking them on as she made it her goal to reach the Fat Lady before Marcus could have at her. Trudging the first few flights left her to stop at the fourth to await its revolve. Atop the fifth flight, her foot had somehow caught on the top step—her bent right elbow breaking her fall onto the hard cement flooring. An egregious ache followed a crack. She damned her clumsiness and sat up. Straightening out her arm was excruciating, the stinging intolerable. She clung to her bruising elbow, crawling back madly when Marcus approached.

"Go away!" she bit out, tears pooling.

"Did you trip?" he asked gently, kneeling down. "Let me see."

"Leave me alone, you ugly prat!"

"Lend me your arm, Potter."

He took it when she didn't oblige. Surveying it, he said, "Must've been hell of a fall. I think it's fractured."

"Oh, God," she whined. "Really? You think it is?"

Squeezing her greening inner elbow to stimulate a piercing moan, he nodded, "It is. A Chaser of mine broke his wrist last year and it resembled your coloring." Lifting her up in his arms, he continued, "Bugger was probably in some level of pain, but his nuts were too big to let him show it."

"Put me down. I can walk."

"Relax, Potter. I've got you," he consoled, carrying her down the stairs.

"You're taking me to the hospital wing, right?" she asked tensely.

"Would you rather go to my bedroom?" he returned sincerely.

"How long does it take for broken bones to heal?"

"There's a spell that heals them in a heartbeat. I would do it for you, but I don't want to fuck it up. Rumor has it that fucking up the pronunciation can have disastrous results."

"Don't swear so much, please. It sounds...ungentlemanly."

"Sorry, it's a habit. I try to watch it when I'm among ladies."

Descending the second flight, Ron and Hermione rushed up to meet them. "What did you do to her, Flint?!" Ron shouted, his face red hot in accusatory anger.

"_She_ stumbled and hurt her arm, Weasley. I'm taking her to the infirmary."

"Where did you stumble?" Hermione inquired beside her supported head.

"At the fourth flight's top step. It was peculiar how it happened, though. It felt like something grabbed at my ankle...and made me trip."

"You're just paranoid," Flint said. "Nothing could've grabbed you. You were alone."

"But something did," she assured. "Really, I felt it."

"Did she injure her legs too?" Ron asked sternly. "Run off, Flint. We can take her to the infirmary ourselves."

"I'm being helpful, carrot-top. You ought to run off to your victory party."

Nearly the wing, Toni grew anxious, remembering that Draco was in there with his hilarious testicular injury from soaring off his broom during the game. Regardless of whatever pain he was in, he was sure to throw a guileful remark her way whilst in there with him.

Laying her onto a cleared bed, Flint fetched Madam Pomfrey to explain as Ron and Hermione pulled up a seat. As fate would have it, Draco noticed her from three beds down.

"What's wrong with you, Potter? Your period unbearable?" he sneered, for Flint to storm back and wrench the white privacy curtain around them.

"She'll be over shortly," Flint said, taking a seat on the bed by her waist.

"You may go now," Ron snapped, not enjoying the older Slytherin's presence one mite.

"You're behaving quite rudely, Weasley. I'm not going anywhere," he said, his fingers drumming her right thigh.

"Alright, let me have a look, dear," the mediwitch said, her wand in hand.

Toni rose her arm for Madam Pomfrey to touch lightly, nodding, "Yes, it's broken, but it'll be good as new in just a moment-"

"Broken, you say?" Lockhart chipped in, his head sticking through the curtain. "It would appear that my visit to collect a remedy for my headache is of greater meaning than I'd thought. If you would step aside, Poppy, I will happily cure her for you."

"No, ma'am, please don't," Toni mumbled, panicked, the three other students wearing frowns for the pompous professor.

"Don't you fret, Miss Potter," Gilderoy proclaimed, stepping up to the bedside, his wand ready. "Allow me."

"You're in no position to do this, _charming_," Flint cut in.

Toni secured her arm to herself, shaking her head at the prof, but he snatched it up and stabbed her elbow enunciating, "Brackium Emendo."

Her whole arm felt lighter and lax, though it didn't feel right to her. The others got the same hunch just by judging how flabby it appeared. Lockhart modeled his smug self-assuredness in the aftermath to his mistake. Flint looked amazed as he took her very limp arm and curved her forearm so that it was bent up in a way impossible with bones present. Hermione cringed and Ron and the mediwitch gaped as the prof chuckled an "oops" and got to his feet.

"A trivial side-effect. It will mend itself given an hour or two," the teacher said, backing away.

"You sodding idiot!" Flint barked from the edge of the bed, seeming ready to pounce for the author.

Madam Pomfrey groaned to herself, leaving the scene to go to her supply cupboard while the Quidditch Captain reprimanded the ostentatious prof all the way back out into the hall. The nurse returned with a tall skeletally-decorated bottle containing a clear liquid.

"I'm afraid that due to Mr. Lockhart's interference, you're going to be in for a rough night. The regrowth of bones is an overnight process, and you're going to be enduring some pain," she sighed, measuring some of the medicine into the glass. It smoked as it was dispensed.

Toni was lightheaded at the situation. "Um, will it regrow my bones just as they were?" she asked fearfully.

"Yes, now gulp this up fast. It's very, very bitter, but you must consume it all if you wish to again have a fully functional right arm."

She held it, plugging her nose like she did when taking cough syrup as she sipped a mouthful—to spray the liquid out after barely accepting its taste. Pomfrey reclaimed the cup to refill it, scolding her to swallow it down for her own benefit.

…

It was forty minutes past eleven o'clock that night. Her throat still burned and she wanted to puke at the to that tonic's lasting evil tang. She laid with her back facing Draco as he chucked catcalls at her from her arrival all through the evening and until now, when Flint came in with a bouquet.

She meant to get some rest after wishing Ron and Hermione goodnight at ten-thirty, but she doubted this bloke would be on his way anytime soon. She buried her face into her pillow as the Slyth sat against her waist just as he did hours ago. She recoiled when she felt him plant a kiss in her hair and slackened somewhat when he leant up and set the flowers at the bedside table.

"Can you come back another time, Captain? I'm having a personal discussion with the girl," Draco voiced boldly.

Glaring needles the blond's way, Flint said, "Get your sleep, Malfoy. You're back on the pitch along with the rest of the team bright and early tomorrow morning after that shit-performance you helped give today. It's time we toil our arses off with practice." With that, he screened them off with that expedient curtain. "Only got him on 'cause his dad asked me to," he whispered. "Rebuffing such a fellow is more lethal than what I'm comfortable with."

"I'm sure," Toni yawned in agreement. "I'll let you stay if you can keep Draco quiet. He's been at it for hours. I've run out of decent comebacks."

"If he's as smart as he claims he is, then he'll keep his comments to himself," he reasoned, moving to lay on the other side of the bed, acting as if they were a couple of common marries.

"Why do you like me, Marcus? Seems to me you'd go for one of the older Slytherin girls…" she shrugged, "maybe a loose one."

"You're different, Potter. You look older than the other second year girls. I've got a bit of a fetish for girls with red hair, and it seems you're one of the few with that hair color in this place."

"Ron's sister, Ginny, has reddish-orange hair, but you better stay away from her."

"I have no interest for a Weasley. She looks too young anyway."

"Well, _I_ like Oliver Wood," she confessed to make him jealous. "I guess I have a fetish for Scottish accents."

"I'd give that up, Potter. He's with Samantha Rooksheer. Been dating her since fifth year. Heard he shags her in his locker room."

"...Oh my," she murmured, her heart strings severed.

He rested his arm over her side, nuzzling into her hair. "When I graduate next spring, I'm moving out to the Cotswolds to work for my grandfather. He runs a brewery manufacturing whiskey, ale, mead, gin...Anyway, I'll come back when you're 'of age' as your muggle-born friend calls it, and I'll ask you out."

"Doubt I'll be for it," Toni said.

"We'll see." He smoothed his hand over her cast without warning. "Feels firmer," he observed.

"My pinky and thumb are still too flexible," she sighed.

"That Lockhart is a real gimmick, he is. Wager he's fraudulent in what he does. Roguish dreamer's too effeminate, far too much of a pussy to have actually come face-to-face with a yeti, let alone a ghoul of any kind."

"Except for Casper, maybe," Toni giggled.

"Who's that?"

"Oh, it's cartoon about a friendly ghost. It's popular where I come from." As it had entered her mind that she was being social with Flint, she decided to shoo him off, for this was too abnormal for her liking. She made herself clear just as his fingers slithered into her hair. "I'm tired. Can you go?"

His hand went on her hip to turn her so that she laid on her back. He hovered over her, his hands cradling her head as he smiled, those atrocious teeth making her uneasy as per. "Close your eyes and part your lips just a trifle, pretty," he spoke lowly.

"I don't want this," she objected. "I'd rather we be...friends."

"I'll make it friendly, Potter," he wheedled, his nose touching hers.

With just specks of distance between them, Toni hollered, "He's going to kiss me, Draco!"

That had been the ticket. Bed sheets ruffled fleetingly and mere moments later, the younger Slyth was ripping the curtain away to jab his wand at his indiscreetly poised captain. "Isn't she a tad young for you, Captain?"

"Not this…" Flint grumbled. "I swear to the almighty Salazar himself that if you don't let us be, you're off the team, mate."

Huffing through his nostrils with thinned lips, Draco said, "You know you can't enact such a precarious measure. It would all fall on our House too, wouldn't it? After my father got through streaking vengeance with his Governor's rank put to use."

"He couldn't. His 'dominion' is limited."

"He'll have _his_ brooms back."

"Just lay off, Malfoy."

"_You_ lay off," Draco commanded, poking his wand further. "...of her, and scram."

"Fuckin' rubbish!" Flint snarled, pushing away from the girl. "You're not off free, Antonia," he vowed, a lone finger at her cheek. "I will have that bloody kiss—and more...one day."

Once he'd stormed out, she had to suppress mumbling a heartfelt thank you to her savior. She was joyously relieved even when Draco's expression turned grim. He tucked his wand out of sight, but his stance remained.

"You owe me, Potter."

"Um, thanks for that," she said. "That was a close call...again."

"You're in liability, and you can get out of it now by stepping up to me and puckering up."

"Jesus! Why do you and Flint even want to kiss me? I never got this sort of attention before I started going here."

"You're desirable simply for being the Chosen One. I'm not sure that's the reason why I have these blasted feelings for you, but it doesn't matter anyway because you're going to kiss me."

"I'm not."

"It won't be gross like it would be with him, Potter," he said standing directly in front of her. "We're both twelve, and nobody will know but us."

"Draco, no."

He was now beginning to take on the frustration Flint did at her irksome intransigence. "Stand up. I'll be done with you in just a minute or two," he said, gnashing his teeth.

Pinching the bed sheets to stave her flustered daze, she decided her right arm and hand were mended well enough for now, and she was left-handed anyway. She could return in the morning to have her cast removed. "Okay," she huffed, getting up.

She neared his mouth, but placed hers to his cheek, which he didn't disturb him any—but she fooled him into anticipating her lips on his, since she then hightailed the infirmary, her borrowed nightgown billowing as Draco broke into reality and trailed suit. He called after her as her sleepy bare feet hauled her through several corridors. With her phobia of the stairs still contemporary, she chose to take shelter in a closet or in one of Snape's stores—with significant risk.

Nearing what was either a closet or store, the eccentric idea to avert Draco off her path coursed in. The stratagem was off her rocker, but she had to give it a try. If her underwear laid in the center of the corridor, perhaps she could fool him once more that night by having him believe she'd apparated elsewhere, accidentally leaving behind this garment, for alas, her feet were without socks.

Pre-barging through the door ten feet ahead to her right, she shimmied out of her panties with the assistance of her free hand and left them alone as she snuck into the space. Panting and sweating from the exertion and dread that he wouldn't be so easily duped, she shrunk to wait on the floor, grazing a soft bat-like ear. She yelped at the touch, but avoided inviting trouble in, compliments of the gods.

"I-it is Dobby, miss! Dobby has arrived just as Miss Antonia Potter has become solo," a high pip announced.

"Good hell, today was awful!" she whispered, wanting to hug the elf for comfort. "Um, why...er, how are you in here?"

"Ah, Dobby has apparated, as house-elves can. Dobby has been watching Antonia Potter all day, and Dobby has known of her locations."

Rising to turn on the light, she pressed on, "Why is that?"

She heard him gulp as she could now see that she was indeed in a closet.

"Well, you see, Antonia Potter, Dobby has warned you already of the danger this school will bring you this year, and yet, Miss Antonia Potter still does not listen and she returns here, where it is not safe. Dobby hardened the wall to Platform 9 and ⅓ on September the first, and that ceased Antonia Potter's intentions none. Dobby apologizes profusely about causing Antonia Potter a bone fracture, and he is _so_ sorry, he has ironed his hands and thrown himself down the stairway of the Malfoy family's patio to suffer what pain he has purposefully caused Antonia Potter, as Antonia Potter can see from Dobby's bandaged hands and bruises along his cranium, legs and arms, but it was for Antonia Potter's goodness!"

"You…? Dobby! You need to cut this out now! The only danger I have to freak out on is wandering around out there with a twisted will to put his tongue in my mouth! If Draco and Flint are what you're trying to scare me about, you're late. And I could have broken my neck today or been injured much, much worse! You can't tamper with me like that, Dobby!"

"DOBBY ALMOST WISHES HE WERE REMORSEFUL, BUT DOBBY CANNOT BE!" the elf chanted, going about his usual wall-inflictions. "ANTONIA POTTER WILL LIKELY MEET HER DEMISE IF SHE DOES NOT LEAVE HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY!"

"Please quiet down! Someone will hear you!"

The elf sniffled noisily, wiping his snotty nostrils on his tattered pillowcase. Toni was sympathetic at the sight, while also befuddled.

"Does Lucius make you wear that?"

"Yes, it is a mark of the house-elves enslavement. Dobby can only be freed if his master presents him with clothes."

"Go figure…" Toni ground out, shaking her head at the neglect. "Try to throw that thing in the wash, at least. You'll probably feel better in it if it's clean."

"If only Dobby's master would enable Dobby to do such," he sighed sadly. "It is dependent of your life that you leave, Antonia Potter. You must trust Dobby."

"Tell me what's going to happen."

"Dobby cannot." He took her left hand. "Dobby cares hugely for Antonia Potter's health and safety, and Dobby needs to see her leave this school behind."

"I won't."

"You must!"

"First tell me why."

"Dobby has faith Antonia Potter will take his words to heart and do as he wishes," he said with hurt eyes, letting go of her hand. "Dobby has to be back at the manor now."

"Not before you cough up the truth!" she importuned, but he vanished to a sprinkle of dust.

Defeated, she peeked out of the ajar door to ensure Draco was nowhere around. Stepping out, she saw the hall to be more empty than she had favored, for her formerly strewn panties were missing.

* * *

'_Cloak, pillowcase, Marauders...WAND! Yes, that's a must!'_

She stowed her essentials in her pillowcase, though kept her map out to scan persistently on her way to the dungeons. Exiting her dorm, she kept her fingers crossed that none of the mates would catch her through the common room because she'd find issues in explaining why she was bringing a limp pillowcase to the library with her.

All was safe for now as she steered clear of bumping into anyone special on her journey out. It was four-thirty in the afternoon and all five boys were not settled in their dorm, but who knew when that would change. She'd have to hustle through this entire ordeal, of course.

Descending into the bowels of the school, she gripped her cloak in preparation. Finding the ideal time and spot to slip it on without gaining anyone's notice would be tricky. Maneuvering everybody's passage through their common seemed almost impossible. One feathery brush against someone's shoulder and it was all over for her. The ghosts left a certain chill when passing the students, but never came into physical contact with them, simply because they weren't able to.

Being a quintessential and wily 'ghost' would be taxing, but the redhead had achieved multiple feats in her days. Also, she had to show Fay she could do this without screwing it all up. She'd rub it in her face when this was done with.

Amid the Slytherins here in the chambers, she gawked her area to seek out the place she would disappear in. She moved through a classes open door, and seeing it empty, she got underneath her cloak rapidly, checking her feet, legs and arms before walking out unseen.

Keeping clear of passersby stressed her enormously, especially as she advanced toward their nest. A turn from her destination, she'd touched a younger student gently as he'd quite suddenly appeared from around the corner as she approached. He was mildly startled, but carried on nonetheless. Toni still suffered something akin to cardiac arrest at it.

The wall at the end of this corridor was reached, but her mission hadn't begun yet. Proceeding to stop at the right end of the moss-coated enclosure of stone, she kept her good distance as four Slytherins a year below her uttered the password for the wall to separate and grant them access.

"Constrictor," she said softly to a protruding stone, luckily loud enough for it to let her in. It had been over a year since she'd last been in here, and the set-up and people seemed about the same. Goggling around frantically, she scuttled to her right to stay behind a leafy tan pillar that was flattened to the walling, reckoning it an OK-zone...for the time being. She wouldn't idle here at her own risk.

Still obscured, she pinpointed the locations of two of the roommates, save for Draco, who for some reason was seldom named anywhere each time she'd check. Blaise and Theodore were in the library, so she presumed Crabbe and Goyle were out in Hogsmeade, and perhaps Draco had tagged along.

Sighing, she knelt down to rest on the floor. It could've taken hours for one of them to show up, and endeavoring to find their dorm on her own was infeasible. Ten...twenty...thirty minutes came and went and the rogue trio were nowhere in sight, and Zabini and Nott were pegged unmoving on the map in the library, likely studying at a table.

Eighteen more minutes passed and her buttocks had gone numb when finally, Blaise was afoot through the corridors, evidently heading for the dungeons as several minutes went by. She grinned broadly as he neared. Standing, she bounced on the balls of her feet in suspense. Her innards tensed as he entered the common room and traveled down the stairway whilst flipping through pages in one of three books he held.

Cautiously, she pursued him, maintaining approximately fifteen feet behind him. He led her to the fourth hallway opening to the left at the the common room's left side, for the girls' dorms must have been across the boys'. Ceiling lights shone green, dimming this hall enough to make Toni squint slightly and appreciate her own dormitory's more vibrant luminescence.

Blaise halted at the door at the very end of this hall, extracted his wand and tapped the doorknob once wordlessly, then stepping inside, leaving Toni alone and leant at another door a few room's down. Not ten seconds arrived when he returned back out empty-handed, his eyes straight ahead as he strode by the shrouded Gryff.

Huffing heftily at her fortunate circumstances, she sped up and tried the knob. Hankering with all she was that this could be unlocked using the regular alohomora charm, she performed it, to giggle in relief when a click sounded.

A large chunk of her had believed she would not make it this far. She took in the environment, the placement of the five aligned albeit spaced-out four-posters, the four ceiling-high, screened windows that revealed not the outdoor sky but the bottom of a lake with wafting seaweed, although the visual was mostly murky and leaden. Toni preferred the sunlight and clouds outside her window powerfully to this eerie light source. The beds were the same size as the ones in her dorm, but lacked the canopy. The flooring was cemented and each bed had a green or black rug beside it. A trunk sat the end of each bed and there were two escritoires, one on either side of the room. Five average-sized wardrobes stood by every bed next to a bedside table. The covers were just as green as the rest of the common room as expected. This living space wasn't remarkably formidable, but it wasn't her carafe of sherry.

Baby-stepping further inside, she set her stuff on the closest bed. The map showed Blaise and Theodore departing the castle, allowing her taut muscles to loosen. The guys would likely be out till the night grew old, not that she'd require that much time, but the notion was comforting.

'_Where to start?'_ she mused. When she reminded herself that anywhere was fine, she busied herself with this bed's trunk. A gray quilt, beat-up shoes probably used for Quidditch, three pairs of slacks, and a bottle of firewhiskey with just a few sips existing was all this one had to offer.

The next one over wasn't much more exciting with its napkin-wrapped hoagie, jar of moldy biscuits, dirty underwear and cologne. This trunk and the last must have belonged to Crabbe and Goyle, she interpreted.

The upcoming trunk stored several dark arts books, a black bathrobe, four folded vests, and a ring box missing its ring. She didn't recall Theo ever sporting a ring, but both Draco and Blaise had, but her instincts told her this was Blaise's, for he seemed more into reading about the dark arts, and reading in general.

The trunk after contained similar possessions, but the final trunk beheld something of monumental suspicion. A bottle with an undoubtable symbol of poison illustrated on it was tipped face-up so that it was the first item she noticed. She took it to feel that it was brimmed with a fluid. Knowing in her soul this was Draco's, she felt as if she were going to faint in horror.

'_Not in here!'_ she ordered herself. Getting up, she stuffed the bottle into her pillowcase and continued with her scavenging. She kept an eye out for a book, considering that perhaps he used a journal or diary to write in just as she did, but came to deny the idea, realizing that was hardly something he'd do.

Having identified this as Draco's bed, she yanked up the sheet and let his pillow and blanket hit the floor. Flailing the blanket back and forth and up and down for ten seconds, she made it up just how it was before her involvement. She dismissed even doing this with the other four beds with the assumption that Draco wouldn't have bothered having his roommates hide anything in their beds. Besides, he wouldn't have thought in his lifetime the girl would dare barge into his bedroom, for his minx was too weak-kneed for such a jeopardy.

His wardrobe stood out as the major priority to be sought through. Pulling on either door's latch, She was faced with a vertical stack of black shirts, blazers, jackets, coats—nothing but traditional funeral attire including several white button-up school shirts. Two pairs of dress shoes, both the same color and practically identical in design were lined up at the floor in this cabinet. On his feet currently were surely the third pair which matched likewise.

Her fingers shoveled into each pocket on each article of clothing, the hangers lightly clinking until she finished the last blazer at the right end. On the verge of moving on to the next wardrobe, she went with her better safe than sorry whim and stepped into both pairs of shoes and wiggling her toes, yet she was actually just curious to experience how much bigger his feet were than hers, silly as that was, for she'd absolutely no time to dilly-dally.

'_Would he go as far as to store something in his 'mates personal closets and dressers?'_

It didn't seem probable, but what did she have to lose? Coming across oodles more plain black tops and occasional greens and grays, she retreated back to Draco's dresser and tugged out the top drawer to go huge-eyed at what was unmistakably her brassiere—the very one he'd thieved weeks earlier on the astronomy tower—nestled beneath a pair of his gray briefs.

Furious and concurrently repulsed, she took what was hers and thrust that drawer shut with enough force to quake the dresser as a whole. The three drawers below were completed in short time with all pants' pockets sifted, so she weighed her options. She moved on to glance under all beds to come up with nada. Hunting her bum off for that last seventeen minutes gave her that highly suspicious and scary toxic liquid but not much more out of the ordinary. Returning to the bed she could only guess to be Nott's, she took a lazy gander at the map, expecting all boys to still be out of the school at this point, yet she shrieked upon catching the very nearby footsteps of Gregory Goyle. He was no more than forty seconds away from the dorm.

"No, fuck!" she breathed, almost too flabbergasted to think straight. She gathered her pillowcase from the bed past the one she stood at and sloppily adjusted her cloak over herself, her back striking the wall the door was mounted on. The spacing beneath the beds was too narrow for her to slide under, so cowering in invisibility would have to serve. She prayed his stay would be brief, for it was still rather early and it wasn't a school night.

She stifled a gasp as the hulking seventeen-year-old waddled in, cracking the door behind him. Staggering over to his dresser, it was comically pronounced that he was sloshed. Fumbling one door open, he bent to pick up a jingling sack, money, surely, then moseyed back towards the door, his eyes ambling the room while he did so, as if the slow-witted brute actually sensed what was off.

'_Hecan'tseemeno!no!hecouldn'tpossibly!calmdowncalmdownit'sokayit'sokayhereallycannot-'_

His bloodshot eyes were now fixed where Toni's feet were, and he cocked his head just as a piqued canine would. Shaking her head in petrified doubt, she drew her sight downwards to go stiff in terror, as half of her left foot stuck out alone as the only piece of her body that was visible. Suddenly, she wanted to tear her incredibly vacuous brain to pieces for not listening to Fay's duh! message.

The long-time crony of Malfoy's may have been both dumb and piss-drunk, but he still rationalized what he was seeing as a bit peculiar. As he inched to her, one dodder at a time, she slipped her spasming hand into her pillowcase. Her heart paused when she was able to grab anything in the bag _but_ her wand. Unfortunately, she was so manic at the goon's closing in that she failed to notice her wand falling from the bag as she'd carried it at a tilt.

Goyle really moved slowly, probably questioning his sobriety as he squinted at her frozen foot. His towering form just two feet from where she stood, she squeezed her eyes closed to block out the view of the ape-ish Beater.

At last, he placed his shoed toes on hers, and his incertitude was no more. Lowering himself, he touched the bareness of her foot, avoiding the surrounding part of the ballet flat. The oafish Slyth had presumably gotten the gist that this was a female, and decided to have some exploratory fun. When his strong, plump fingers wrapped around her ankle, she was unable to subdue a squeal.

Clenching the transparent fabric of her cloak, he jerked it to himself, for her to be divulged as if by an out-of-the-blue apparition. She screamed again, louder now, while his expression turned to one of startled malice.

"...Potter?"

"Oh, oh, please!" she whimpered, taking backwards steps against the wall to end up at a corner. This was what Fay had forewarned; this exact situation. "I - I can explain…"

"Oh yeah?" he said, lumbering for her.

His unkempt demeanor and taunting eyes sent her equanimity hurtling as she used all the strength she owned to keep from sinking to the ground, her muscles having felt dead. He gained on her gradually just for his own entertainment as he quite appreciated seeing the young woman waver in the manner she was; it brought him to a state of authority knowing the blood-traitorous girl was so helpless.

"Listen...listen to me, Gregory," she said, yelping as he seized her swiftly but her neck.

Effortlessly slamming her head to the wall so that dizziness could gush in at his will, he drawled, "I don't go by that. I rather like Goyle."

"O-okay! Okay, Goyle! Please, I'll leave right this instant! Let me go, please-"

He chortled down at her, removing his grip at her delicate neck to skid it atop her left breast—encouraging her to wail out at the top of her lungs. He pressed her into the wall, his body on hers, and his large paw at her mouth with vicious exertion.

"Don't wanna get the at-attention of people outssside, d'we, Potter?" he cajoled her wickedly while she hyperventilated. "Convene-ent of ya to be in here, it is," he slurred. "'Riginally came in here to eh, pick up some more galleons...been out havin' drinks with me best bud, Crabbe, yeah...and here ya are in here by coince-dence...just when I'm feelin' in the mood ferr pussy."

She could have hurled right there. She'd have to stall him, at least until someone else came in to distract him long enough for her to retrieve her wand and stun them both.

"Um, where's your other best friend...Draco?" she asked.

"Don' know...prolly in that bloody 'quirement room again. Haven' seen bastard since mornin'."

He was panting all over her face, his drunken stare at the cleavage he was creating with the mocking tug of her blouse's collar. She defensively scratched at his hands using her own, inspiring him to lug her to his mattress, sling her onto it and restrain her reciprocating counterattack by laying above her, his weight effectively holding her still, to which she resorted to howling out for help.

"I silenced the ennntire room, you worthless lil' twat. Nobody can hear ya, but even if they did, they prolly wou'n' rescue ya 'cause you're our enemy."

"Goyle, stop," she pleaded, looking into his eyes and blinking back tears. "You're right. It was wrong of me to come in here without any consent from you or the others who live here, but this isn't how my...intrusion needs to be settled."

He went by his intentions as if he hadn't heard a word she'd said. A hand trailing down her thigh, it came back up along with the rim of her skirt, the silk to be released at her hips. Sneering into her neck, he dipped a hand inside her thigh to separate a leg so that he could repose his own waist between her.

"Why are ya in here, anyhow? Oi? What'er ya doin' snoopin'?"

She was hardly able to answer as queasiness reaped her conscious, the start of an erection growing against her womanhood. Feverishly, she fought him, having her sanity to lose if he went any further with this. He was _very_ developed as far as she could feel, too much so for her recovery. She could implore him at the sake of her virginity, but he wouldn't be a gentleman, she knew he wouldn't be. If some hindrance didn't impede his carnal wishes in moments, then he would grind into her vindictively.

"Draco's going to poison someone," she said. "I had to get...proof. I had to find out his plans because he won't tell me anything on his own, so I-"

His crushed a fist against her jawline, a bellow to result. Her ears rung in tremendous stress; the left portion of her face was pulsating as hell rose just below the level of this dormitory. As she sobbed, her head crooked to her right facing the bedpost, she heard the door swing open.

Whipping her head in that direction, she wanted to laugh in glee upon seeing Draco. She watched him with watery eyes as he stood still in his place just a little ways inside the dorm, glaring mystified at the vision that was two beds from his own. If he got her out of this, she would be punished at Draco's spite, of course, but she desired his hands and mouth extensively to this troll's.

"Draco, get him off, oh please, Draco!" she begged, her hopes low as he in turn only studied them, perhaps speechless.

"I found 'er in here, man," Goyle said, his head up, but his body in place. "She was hidin' with that invisible sheet right there near the door. I came in here to collect extra change and I saw the cunt's foot, eh, half her foot. Said she's been in here, Merlin himself knows how long, snoopin' and whatnot. Claims you are gonna poison somebody out there…" he chuckled to himself wheezily. "Jus' teachin' Potter here to think twiccce next time, I am."

The blond's eyes hopped to hers then. The look he gave her mirrored the one Neville had after she'd broken his heart. Seeing Goyle on top of her, fondling her, seeing his head buried in her neck—it aggravated Draco to near madness; the jealousy he took on at the view was sickening him, she could tell. Yet, he tore his grays to his wardrobe, headed for it to obtain a coat, then he exited the dorm with a hard slam of the door. He would punish her with this, by leaving her to his mate's charge. He could have taken on the role of discipline himself, but she wouldn't have learned, she never did. At least this incident should ultimately perforate her skull and embed right from wrong and eavesdropping from minding her own fucking business.

"...Where were we?"

She knew where she was, and that was _not_ at the mercy of his inebriated gesticulations and oversized cock. No, no, no, she would nip this in the bud, most definitely. To hell with being taken advantage of. She refused to be so susceptible.

He was groping with his trousers' zipper when she shifted her leg to knee his crotch, the coveted reaction not quite present as he had grunted at the assault, but clamped a hand to her neck, depriving her of proper inhalation with the purpose of penalizing her. Scraping her fingernails down his arm had small effect, but her consistent squirming was wearing him out plenty, possibly due to his intoxication.

Snarling in objection to her reprisal, he collided back down so she'd hold still, motioning to rip her shirt apart and suck at the base of her neck. His hair was cut too short to tweak at, but pounding into the back of his head over and over got him to fend off some.

Wise to withhold on even trying to keep his mouth on hers, he flimsily smacked his lips against her ear, all the while bucking into her and hardening up to the extent of making her ill. Whether she'd black out now or in an hour, she couldn't be sure, but she did what she could in the now.

His face right there, she moved to bite into his cheek, drawing blood, as he flinched up, readying another blow, but she lunged her knee forward once more as hard as her being would allow, and when he faltered, she shinnied to fall off the edge of the bed, advancing to grab her wand in the nick of time.

"Petrificus totalus!" she screeched just as he'd risen from the bed. She winced as he dropped totally paralyzed, but she cackled thereafter.

Distraught, she gathered her filled pillowcase, kicked the perverted animal to her liking, her foot and fists spending a minute on his abdomen, crotch and shins combined before she fled the dorm weeping. She hadn't bothered to conceal herself, caring not at all when the common room's occupants ogled her strangely as she escaped their lair.


	27. Haven, Tainted

_*Potentially Sensitive Material_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Seven  
_Haven, Tainted_**

Hot bile spilled from her throat, her head hovered over the toilet as she crouched in a stall in the first floor's women's lavatory. Her temples felt impaled as did her stomach that knotted into a stitch once that bull had _tried_ to have her do as he'd pleased.

Getting on her haunches, she straightened up and flushed. Tears endlessly coated her eyes even as they seeped from their ducts. She predicted her collapse by the third flight, but she was committed to reaching Fay. Toni was coming to cry to her, praise her words of how she'd told her so, and grovel for their kept companionship. She had no other lap to snivel in.

The wobble upstairs was as inundating as it could be. She'd spent four hours in that stall, vomiting on and off, compulsively questioning her intelligence, blanking out from shock. She knew torment for all that it was, and her encounters with Voldemort had been excessively worse, but preluding what was going to be a rape, she'd just fallen apart in a whole new form, and after all she'd been through, she was clueless as to why she was even still here, still alive, operating and living with a resolute mind.

'_No more crying! Pull yourself together! It's over!'_

It was seven minutes to one o'clock in the morning when she collapsed at Fay's dorm. As contrite as she'd be in disrupting the roommates from their slumber, she was too miserable to be alone. Hermione would expel her from her life if she'd been told, and all that explaining leading up to this catastrophe would take all night. Fay would display her disappointed opinions and drench the redhead with the deserved words of how she was hazardously precipitous…

'_Maybe she'll give me her good riddance'_ she considered, propped up against the door, on the brink of banging it. '_This might be farewell.'_

Her right knuckle pummeled the door as she bawled for Fay, a ruined heap. To her splendor, Fay answered, now at the open threshold, gawking at the living jumble below.

With puffy, pink eyes, Toni stammered a muffled, "Help me."

"Shit," Fay gasped, hastily closing her door and kneeling down to help Toni up. "C'mon, we're going to the couch down there."

"I'm so sorry," Toni panted into Fay's shoulder.

The common room was idle to their blessings, so Fay sat first, then Toni fell to sob into her lap. Fay didn't move a muscle or say anything as Toni mourned. She'd known what had happened straightaway, but she was not ready to deal with this so soon. Her commiserating murmurs of "there, there" and "it's okay" went aloud as she tried to choose what to do, whether to express shame to Toni's idiotic actions, or give her the consolation that she didn't quite earn.

Inhaling deeply, Toni sat upright to begin, "I just barely made it out. It was so close...He had this," she waved over her ripped shirt, "opened up. He tried to..." She didn't need to elucidate further. She really could not anyway.

"...Draco," Fay said, knowing.

"Goyle...Things were running by smoothly for a while." She handed Fay the pillowcase. "I found poison in one of the trunks. I'm about positive it's Draco's. Have a look at it."

The brunette withdrew the black ten-ounce bottle and shrieked sharply. Toni curled her feet over the couch and laid in fetal position, her crying seeming to subside. Fay sighed as she stood, the bottle at hand.

"We have to go to Dumbledore with this."

"We can't," Toni opposed feebly. "I would be in for it too for trespassing into the Slytherin's sector, and I need to get Draco to fess something up before-"

"What on earth is your problem, Ant?! This is serious! He's going to murder someone!"

"I _know_," she muttered hurtfully. "But he'll just find another way to do whatever the fuck he's going to do nonetheless."

"Well, I am going to report what that neanderthal did to you."

"No, Fay. Let it die."

"He was trying to _rape_ you!"

"And he'll go for it again if I notify any of the staff."

"But he couldn't; he'll be expelled!"

"Enough. I'm not taking any more risks. I've learned."

Groaning, Fay dropped the bottle onto a cushion and crossed her arms. Breathing out with dejection, she said, "You've got to stay the hell away from Draco at all costs now. You understand that, right?"

"Absolutely."

"I don't think you mean that, Ant. I think the real reason you're not going to the headmaster is because you care for him."

"What?"

"I'm not going to judge your feelings because you've known him in a far more personal way all these years, but I believe I'm correct on my hunch."

"That's not even remotely funny-"

"Good, it shouldn't be. It shouldn't be funny or cute that you give a hoot for such an heinous bully."

"Fay, I really don't care about him!"

"Then why do you keep seeing him? You visit him in private consistently for rendezvouses in that hidden room. Face it, you can't avoid him, can you?"

"He stalks me! Often times, since first year, in fact, I turn around and he's just there!"

"But you're there too."

"What the hell are you-"

"You follow him. You did second year when you turned into Pansy, and on the train last fall you did when you spied on him from the shelf above his booth." Fay tsked, shaking her head. "You did _this_…"

"He's a death eater, Fay. I have to...spy on him."

"Look where your spying has landed you."

"That was not supposed to-"

"Don't sit there and tell me you had mapped this out to perfection. You just went on with it, like it would be a piece of cake. Foolproof."

"Oh, so if I'd been just a wee bit more meticulous, then I'd have had a chance at getting through this without having that gorilla's giant dick smashed against me?"

"Doing what you did was in no way infallible, Ant. We're not allowed to go into the other common rooms and their dorms for a reason. Slytherins are especially spiteful of invaders as you have opted to example."

"Yes, yes, you were right and I was wrong, very, very _wrong_, okay? I'll just whoop-dee-doo whomever dies at Draco's fault. I'll just overlook what's blatant and ignore the signs because what does it matter anyhow?"

"You already said that he'll do whatever he's trying to do regardless! You _claim_ that's why you won't tell Dumbledore he had a godsforsaken bottle of poison!"

"He...he will."

"Or, you care for the son of a bitch enough to want him astray of Azkaban."

"He told me that he was ordered to do...what he must by Voldemort, or he and his parents will be put to rest," she resorted to blurt.

"Well, there we have it."

"Congratulations. Do you want a biscuit?"

"Don't be ashamed, Ant. I know you're not infatuated with him. You're just concerned for his well-being, if not slightly."

"I was, but he walked in as Goyle forced me...underneath him, and you know what he did? He got his bloody coat and went straight back out, he did. That gesture annihilated all sympathy I held for him."

"So tell on him…" Fay rationalized, quirking a brow.

Toni frowned to the envisage of him being cursed at Lord Voldemort's dudgeon. Draco was terrible, but he didn't deserve that payment. No one really did.

"No, forget it all. I need him out of my life in all respects. Screw him."

…

That Sunday's morning, a crumpled note fell into Toni's porridge. She sighed, plucking it up to unfurl it. Reading it over, her spleen had leapt into her throat.

_~I __will_ _fuck you potter_

She kept her focus at the hearth beyond the Hufflepuff table. She'd known who it was from, so there was no purpose in turning around for verification. Ron had become aware to the message's sender a minute later.

"The bloody hell is Goyle smirking at?"

Fay checked over her shoulder and groaned. "We're going to hex the living shit out of him," she whispered.

Toni shook her head. "Not we."

* * *

_Reminisce: Late Fall of 1995 - Initiation of Dumbledore's Army_

Blood framed the cloth surrounding a sizable and plump boar's head over the pub's entrance, leaving her, Neville and Ron the most reluctant to enter. Hermione went inside first, leading the twenty-eight others in. They all settled down in a grimy close-packed room that was long out of use. A single dirt-smeared window lit up their meeting area, and that alone.

As resolved earlier, Hermione was selected to give the introduction.

"Hi, so you all know why we're here. We need a teacher, well, a proper teacher. One who's had real experience defending themselves against the dark arts."

"Why?" a Quidditch-playing Hufflepuff, Zacharias Smith, put forth.

"Why? Because You-Know-Who's back, you tosspot," Ron answered, duly stern.

"So he says," Zach mused.

"So Dumbledore says," Hermione said.

"So Dumbledore says because he says. The point is, where's the proof?"

'_Damndamndamn…'_ Toni's mind whined.

"I'm sure she could tell us more about how Diggory got killed," another boy spoke.

Rolling her eyes, she turned to Hermione and said, "I told ya this would be a crock. A lump of coal would be more cooperative with this than any of them."

"Now wait just-"

"Is it true you can produce a patronus charm?" Luna piped in.

"Yes, I've seen it," Hermione said as Toni had her back turned to them from her stance at the exit.

"Blimey, Antonia," Dean said. "I didn't know you could do that."

"And she killed a basilisk," Neville cut in brightly, "with a sword in Dumbledore's office."

"Third year, she fought about a hundred dementors at once," Ron added in.

"And last year, she really did fight You-Know-Who off in the flesh," Hermione threw out.

"Please, okay," Toni huffed, blushing. "I might have been lucky. I'm no warrior, or hero or anything like that. Not to mention I got _plenty_ of assistance," she said, nodding to Hermione.

"She's being modest," Hermione said.

"No, really, Hermione…" She faced the onlooking crowd of students. "Listen, what...evil I've seen and dealt with...It had zero on sitting at a desk and reading about it out of the textbooks. The pain I've felt...it's nothing I'm going to spend a lot of time describing. I will say that none of you have...been through the hell I have, not quite." Her bottom met a dusty stool with defeat.

"You're right, Antonia, we don't," Hermione said, taking her place beside her. "That's why we need your help. If we're going to have any chance at beating…" she took in a breath, and warily continued, "Voldemort…"

"He's really back," a younger boy, Nigel Wolpert, said.

Toni grinned then, coming to her feet. She had perked at Hermione's bravely uttered Voldemort. "Form a line if you'd like to join," Toni announced. "'Mione, get paper or parchment and a pen from your bag."

Perspicacity on a more prepared future stood out as a hopeful possibility as the students of every House minus Slytherin signed their name, Hermione's name at the top, and Seamus' at the end. Returning to the castle, Toni and the recruits brainstormed.

"We need to uncover a very shady place to keep clear of Highlady C while we practice," Toni declared, awaiting suggestions.

"The Shrieking Shack?" Ginny said.

"Not enough space, I don't think."

"Forbidden Forest?" Hermione tried.

"The trees would be obstructing."

"What if Umbridge does catch us?" Ginny asked.

"Who cares?" Hermione laughed. "I mean, it's sort of exciting isn't it? Breaking the rules?"

"Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?" Ron smiled.

"Let's get to laborious contemplating on where we're going to train. Wherever it is, it must be out of Umbitch's reach and knowledge."

.

.

.

"MYRTLE!"

The prefects' bathroom door was hurled shut. Toni's eyes darted furiously for the psychic ghost. Myrtle tended to stick to her place of death in the abandoned girls' restroom on the first floor, but whenever Toni would come in here to bathe, the specter would be up in a jiffy as of late. Today, however, Toni was not here for a bath, but rather, to release enough fiery derision for a billion Kreacher's.

"Where are you? Get in here!"

Her translucent head stuck out through the stained mermaid glass window, all teeth and hair-raising titters. "Yessssss?"

"You _knew_ what would happen in there!" Toni seethed. "You suggested it, knowing damn well what would happen to me!"

"But it was worthwhile, was it not, Annie? You found what you needed to," Myrtle excused in a childish voice.

"Well, yes, but why didn't you hint me in on Goyle? You could have warned me to spend no more than ten minutes in there so that...that incident wouldn't have happened."

"But you see, Anne, there is much you cannot know. I've tidbitten you on this plenty already."

"Why did you even bother bringing that up? Because you were bored? Because it would entertain you?"

"I said so to help you. You got the Malfoy boy's rather sneaky treasure, and that other beastly scoundrel didn't even get your knickers off, did he? Your infiltrating was rewarding."

"Ugh, hell. I'll just flat-out assume now that you're not going to tell me who Draco was planning to use that poison on."

"It's predetermined, dearest. You needn't concern yourself with it."

Accepting that, seeing as how changing Myrtle's choice wouldn't be easy nor attainable, she made her depart.

…

Up in her dorm, she got the poison from her underwear drawer, bringing it into view once the other roommates were out and about. In concrete truth, there was no reaping jack from Draco. He was being ordered to slaughter someone at You-Know-Who's ultimatum, just as she was expected to lure Horace's horcrux memory at Albus' demand. Draco was a bully and a bigot, but not a murderer, at least, she didn't perceive him one, though again, this might have simply been wishful thinking. Perhaps he _was_ into such satanic activities.

Only time would tell, just as the spook had promised. It would be vexatious, but Toni would have to bear with it. To alleviate the continual anguish, loads more visits were to be paid to Ab. Intoxicating her despaired and exhausted mind wouldn't usher any good fortune, and right now she had to get as much of that as she possibility could. Ab was handy in his ears; in general listening. Fay fathomed and showed a friend's empathy, but she'd also pull the upbraiding, index finger-wagging Hermione tactic on her, hence awakening self-shame and damage to her esteem.

Ab just shrugged and cleaned his mugs in nonchalant silence.

His tavern normally didn't occupy her on Sunday evenings, but it did this once. Her left hand gripping her wand so that her fingernails indented her palm, she trudged through the partially melted snow in her Chelsea boots, corduroys and winter coat. A glance was whipped over her shoulder every twenty or so seconds in caution of a creeping Goyle. She could still feel his grubby mitts all over her whenever her own recollection teased her with the affair, and she'd have to choke down a whimper in response.

Lightly stomping the snow from her shoes, she glanced where the clerk, John Loftorf, usually sat behind the desk to check-out rooms to patrons. He was absent at the moment. Mr. Loftorf had long recognized the girl by early December. Entering the pub area, she was unzipping her coat, not fifteen feet from her usual stool where someone else in dark clothing sat instead with his head dipped into a palm, going vaguely seen.

"Afternoon, Miss Potter,"

"Hi, Ab. How has your da-"

She backtracked when that someone else jerked upright at the call of her name. She'd fled back for the entrance not a tick after circular, widened, very cold eyes recognized her. Hearing the git rush after from some ways behind, she drew her wand to mutter a swift "Expelliarmus!" just as he'd exited through the threshold. Draco was flung back to strike the wall just several feet off. He crashed down onto his bum, but immediately recuperated, his own wand ready at the blink of her eyes, expertly disarming her somehow as she'd taken steps backwards towards the inn's front entrance. As the blond groggily rose from the floor, she was so determined to get the hell as far away from him as possible that she'd left her wand where it was a mere four feet to her left and trotted for the door. Outside, she'd made it a probable foot past the inn before she'd gotten a taste of her last cast incantation. Landing into a few inches of freshly arrived snow, her face prickled against the freezing water as a sudden heavy weight crushed her deeper into the ground. Draco swiveled her to face him while he straddled her, her buttocks and the back of her head fast becoming frigid as she was held down in the snow.

"Dirty fucker!" she screamed up at him. "Abhorant little boy! GET OFF!"

His teeth gritted, he chuckled, "Can't get e-_fucking_-nough of me, can you?! I come to the most shoddy, low-rate, poorly repped pub in this blasted town and here _you_ are."

"This is **my** pub!" she snarled. "You aren't welcome, you pasty-faced homosexual."

"_Homosexual_?!" he growled, seizing her upper arms to heave her to her feet and force her to the bricked walling of the same pub. Sealing her against it with his body, he made an obscene grab between her thighs, breathing warm liquor over her lips.

"Draco!" she hissed in mortification as his right hand cupped her, his thumb prodding just below the fastenings of her pants. She'd writhed, only able to blush madly in protest. "No, Jesus Christ, stop it!"

Holding her clothed genitalia, he mumbled, "I fantasize about licking this clean, fingering it, bucking my shaft into it, piercing your little, untouched cervix and stealing your moans and screams. I crave your body to the extent of sickness, you worthless bint. If I were a meager notch crueler I'd do what my mate tried to do, and I'd be successful."

"You're despicable."

"We're going back in there," he nodded, his wand poking her left breast. "We're getting a room so we can talk in private and with heat." A glob of hot spit flew at his left eye—for her labia to be dealt with ministered pressure and a sharp pinch. Wiping the blinding drool from his eye, he sneered, "Do that once more and I'll curse you so badly you'll defecate yourself."

"I am _not _going to make love to you, Draco," she vowed.

"Maybe not today, but we are going to discuss some issues through, pet." He dragged her straight back for the entrance. He accioed her wand from the floor and kept it in his clutch while his own stayed at the witches neck.

John asked no questions when Draco asked for a spare single-bedded room. Minding his wand's tip at her neck, she had none either. He towed her up the creaky stairs, down this second floor's hall and onto the third's to shove her inside Room 46. Locking their door, he pushed her so that she stumbled on the mattress. He walked across the suite to hang his coat over the back of a chair. This room was nothing to admire, let alone cling to memory as it was quite barren, dense and creepy in atmosphere. The lone adult-sized bed was placed in the middle, a bedside table to its right with a stack of this world's magazines. A window no bigger than an unfolded newspaper took to the left wall. The bed faced a door at the other side that turned out to be a bathroom, for Draco had gone inside. Toni grimaced hearing what was without a doubt urine spewing into the toilet, the door halfway open all during.

She stifled scolding his rudeness when she chose wisely to tiptoe to the exit, but trying the knob, Draco declared, "Don't even bother with that door, love. I've got it charmed with a lock you'd never learn past."

'_Bugger!'_

Hearing a flush, she saw him spin around to turn on the basin, the bathroom having been just that compact. She observed him until he leisurely stepped towards the bed. She scooted from him to lean against the bedpost, yet he remained on his feet.

"It was Blaise who found Goyle the way he was round five hours after my walk-in. Told me he unfroze him to see that his boner hadn't been, well, taken care of."

"Why did you go? You tell me you want to fuck me and you were OK with letting him?"

"I wanted him to scare you into shape, Potter! How do you think I'm going to feel at coming in to see that you have snuck into my bloody dormitory and torn through my shit?"

"And thank God I did! You had poison!"

"It wasn't mine! It was probably Crabbe's or Goyle's. They use it to kill plants in the greenhouse. You know how brainless they are."

"Would you at least grant me the dignity of my cognition, Draco. I'm not a damn moron."

"Aren't you? You brave saying that concluding your snooping?"

"Who are you meaning to poison?"

"Tell me how you got into my dorm. Hell, throw in details on making it into my common room too, won't you?"

"My invisibility cloak. I just hurried through the wall once I repeated your password after hearing it. I followed Blaise to your room and when he was out of the picture, I managed to get in using alohomora. The rest is history."

"So you went about your plans while any of us, and ultimately Goyle, could have come right in?"

"I had my Marauder's map, but I wasn't watching it like I should have been." He regarded her, puzzled. "...Third year, Fred and George gave me a charmed map that reveals everyone's whereabouts by marking their name and their footsteps. You're infrequently on there this year. I've considered it might be because the Marauder's never found the Room of Requirement."

"Who are the Marauders?"

"Um, they were my dad and his friends when he went to Hogwarts. Dad was nicknamed Prongs, Remus was Moony, Sirius was Padfoot, and..." she scowled, "Peter was...still is, Wormtail. They'd unfortunately put ill trust in Pettigrew. He was oddly sorted into Gryffindor, making him about the only bad person to have come from my House."

"Ah," Draco grumbled, sitting at her feet, seeming to have cooled down from his preceding fury.

"I don't know why you got us a room. It's a school night, and you surely have a date with that cabinet."

"It can wait till tomorrow or Tuesday. It's giving me a bloody headache."

"Draco," she started faintly. "This morning at breakfast, Goyle gave me a note. He says he's going to…"

His hand ran up her calf when she faltered. "Going to…?"

"What do you think?" she exclaimed bitterly.

He shrugged. "I'll talk to him. He's hot for Greengrass, has been since first year, but he's not good enough for her and he knows it. Suppose he wants to take out his lust on another pretty girl. I'll put the horny bastard in his place, Potter, alright? However, our position is going to improve in turn, yeah?"

"How so? I'm not going to be your lover."

"You're going to respect me, at least. That can't be too much to ask."

"But you don't respect _me_! Not ten minutes ago you felt me up at your free will!"

He snorted. "It feels fucking nice to most girls, you know. And it's not like we're strangers to one another. We're well-acquainted. Not exactly friends, but something better, I'd say."

"Nutter. Stinking nutter," she groaned, pulling her foot to herself. "There, we talked. You know what you need to and I don't and won't till it's far too late. You're going to do something that'll make me hate you more I'll ever be able to detail."

"Probably, but what the hell can I do? Oh, and we're passing out in here tonight. Get cozy."

"It's not even eight yet."

"Then come on. We'll get dinner somewhere round here."

"I already had dinner."

"There's a restaurant just down the road. I'll buy you dessert."

"What, are you trying to gain my affection? I'm not going anywhere else but back to the castle."

"Yes, baby," he said with a ghastly look. "I do want your affection, okay? I've always wanted it."

"Well, I can't give it to you." She met him at the door. "Let me out of here."

"Right, fine." He charmed the knob—then had her at wand-point. "Take the lead, peach."

...

It was depressingly legitimate that she had been closer to Draco on both a physical and conversational level than with Neville or Ron since beginning her schooling in Hogwarts. Fay had her unerring suspicions on the fact. The Slytherin's undying persistence got him what he'd apparently hungered,—her biography. Their knowing each other like they were best mates, it was all apt to his drive. She'd strained to keep detached of him following their first meeting in Flourish and Blotts. At eleven, she'd discerned his greed and towering conceit for what it had actually been. And so the antagonizing was born.

Now, running into him at Ab's had essentially terminated any future visits she was wishing to pay. Her exclusive place of refuge, of haven, had now been rescinded, since Draco was a commoner of the pub just as well. He must have been attending, missing her by fortuity all these months. She wouldn't trouble asking precisely when he began going here, for she wasn't concerned enough.

"Look through that," he said, passing her a menu as she stared off in the distance, scheming her escape.

"I don't want anything," she mumbled back.

"I'll get you a drink. How about a margarita, that drink you ladies fancy so much."

"I have to use the restroom." She scooted out of the booth. "Just get me whatever."

"I'll be watching you. I have your wand. Taking off without it would be a wasteful move, wouldn't it?"

She headed to the bathroom with a drooped head and stinging eyes. She would not cry again. It was all she had been doing for the last day. If she'd brought Fay with her that night, would this still have occurred? It shouldn't have been so surprising, seeing him there, brooding to Ab just as she had done religiously. They both had their duties, his mysterious, while hers were widely known. She was the Chosen One, after all.

Locking the stall up, she undid her trousers and muttered insults for her date, being the sole girl in here. "Prick!" she'd repeat, reckoning little need to adjudge him anything more. "He swears he loves me, and he treats me like this!"

The worst piece of all this was that there was nothing to break off with him because technically they were not even dating. This was mostly on that blood status of his. He was raised to have others abide his bidding. He knew no other lifestyle, yet, he was certainly old enough make some personal changes, and to understand that how he bossed around his peers, etcetera, was downright criminal. She couldn't beat sagacity into him. Running was inefficacious; he'd catch her, whether eventually or instantly. No, she'd stay, drink her drink or eat her pie or chocolate mousse, and she'd get to the bottom of these inane feelings he encumbered on her.

The aristocrat must have studied the women's washroom the whole four minutes she was in there, for there were those grays when she stepped out. Gritting her teeth on the way back to her seat, she meant to sit across him, but he didn't want that, no, he had her right next to him so that their sides connected.

"I have to know," she began with a sigh, "why you're attracted to me. Is it my body, or attitude...I just can't figure it out."

"Neither can I. I stopped asking myself by third year, Potter. Maybe something was sparked when you turned down my request, I don't know. What's it to you?"

"It's a lot to me. I want and need to accomplish things and your obsession with me is holding me back. You know this."

"I do, and the fuck I give is not here with us, love." He combed a bundle of strands behind her left ear and nibbled at her lobe. "You bring me solace. My objective has only made my life miserable. Why don't you quit flipping out whenever I kiss you or try to talk to you."

"I'll be yours if you tell me your objective. Who has Voldemort ordered you to kill?"

Draco sighed, sliding her drink to her once it had arrived. Pecking and holding her to him as a doting boyfriend would, he left her question to the air, unfulfilled.

"I want to leave. I've got to sleep. We have class in less than ten hours."

"Fine, back up the street it is."

…

Chicanery was tucked up her sleeve as they neared their suite. Toni's formulations were rarely impeccable, but hopefully some achievement would result in this. What she was on the edge of doing was of no wit; no smidgen of brilliance, but it was necessary. However, this was not a plan at all, but a desperate act of prolonged, six-year-pent revenge.

He needed to be attacked.

"I sleep in my underwear. Pay it no heed while we're in bed. I'll be sure that you're entirely unconscious before I try anything on you if I so feel like it."

And that there fueled the fire of purpose.

Forcing her inside, he charmed the knob, and loosened his grip. He shook out of his coat to deposit it over that same chair. She removed her own, and his back still turned, she lunged for him—taking him to the floorboards. She clobbered him using all the strength she could while he had yet to grasp the situation. Mounting his abdomen, she slapped, punched and yowled down at him with her all.

"Sadist coward! You can't hurt me anymore!" she assured him, her thrashing arms too quick for him to gather and restrain.

He grunted, hoisting her to slam her aside and scramble on top. Her blows lived on until he snatched her wrists and fastened them above her head. She ground her hips as a subconscious alternative, though that was contrary in warding him off. In an anomalous combination of alarm, rage and arousal, a deep hum sounded in his throat, even as a light stream of blood trickled from either nostril. His chest inflating and deflating almost rhythmically, she glared up at him, aware that he was trying to decide what to do with her. With a brutal kiss he obviously longed to execute, his lips would be mutilated by her angry teeth, and hitting her like he longed to just the expanse as tasting her would only give candor to her words. Draco could be better if he tried, couldn't he? Bringing hurt out was a choice, and always had been.

"Shh, no, no, what are we doing?" he muttered, lowering himself to lay all his weight over her. Her face had reddened in her assault and she'd gotten so worked up that her eyes were shiny, a telltale sign that tears were on the way. "Calm yourself."

"Fuck you! I hate you! Oh, I hate you so goddamn much!" she retorted. Her body temperature surpassed a hundred seeing his sights stuck on her mouth. She shook her head back and forth madly. "I am NEVER having that hideous mouth of yours on mine again! I'm going to make you hate me too! You'll crawl back to Parkinson when I'm through with you!"

"Not a chance," he said, smiling wanly. "_This_ is why you astonish me, sweetheart. This war of ours, it's exhilarating."

"It's torture!"

"I can't possibly hate what keeps me motivated. Something so precious, beautifully convoluted, full of zest and insolence…" He shifted himself to have his pelvic region intimidate hers. "Feel me, woman. This samples what I feel for you."

"Hopeless beggar," she mocked, too riled to wince as a drop of his blood splattered onto her nose.

Swiping at his dripping, throbbing nose with his sleeve, he tugged a handful of her hair so he could move to relax his lips at her forehead. "I will beg, if I must, Potter. If that's what it'll take to pocket your heart, then so be that."

'_Wand...wand, I have to get my wand.'_

She stilled as he clutched either cheek of hers with either hand of his and went to town on her sweet mouth. Her fingers patted the floor surrounding. Realizing they were probably in his coat, she reached out to its dangling right sleeve on the back of the chair, but her attempt was ceased.

The small of her back and the backs of her knees were lifted into Draco's hold and she was swooped to the bed in a whirlwind. Her grim rancor hadn't stalled, as demonstrated when his manhood was crushed at her left foot's grace. A guttural groan stemmed and his hands went to nurse his crotch as she clambered off the bed and pounced for his coat—closing herself in the bathroom in a flash. Her sigh of relief caught in her throat when she noticed this door was lock-less, and Draco was too fast and strong for her to hold the door shut with her hands alone. She didn't even have time to fish out her wand before the door swung open. This spacing so small, she leant against the corner where the sink was. He kept to the threshold, his face as scarlet as hers, but his hands no longer clasped his privates. Breathing out loudly through his nostrils, his gaze square on hers, his lip curled, and his belt looped and in his hold, he paced inside, leaving less than a foot between them.

"You know it really motherfucking hurts, Antonia, when a foot makes contact like that with a man's testicles. We have the wind knocked out of us, and we lose our balance," he spoke lowly, trapping her in her place, lodging himself between her legs. "Our muscles basically constrict down there, princess, and the agony of it is indescribable. The cramping will last roughly a half hour, but at least in that time, I can reciprocate."

"Why don't you cry it out of your system, you child. Don't inflict it on me. You couldn't anyways, not with my lack of balls."

"You're going to lay on your stomach over my lap out there with your pants and panties at your ankles, and I'm going to lash your pretty little arse."

Spinning her to guide her out of the bathroom, he kicked his coat across the floor until they reached the bed. Pushing her away, she fell against the bedside table as he retrieved their wands. He took his seat at the bed's end, her wand beneath his legs and his targeted at her.

"Go ahead and hex me, then. I've stooped low enough as it is," she said.

Tightening his clutch so that his knuckles whitened in their wrap on his belt, he frowned, growling, "In my lap, come on. I'll go no more than a minute, cross my heart."

"You're not switching me with that thing."

"I use my bleeding hand, then!" he grumbled, throwing the leather strap over his shoulder.

"I'm about to scream if you don't hand me my wand and let me leave, Draco, for the love of-"

"We're silenced already. Nobody can hear anything that goes on in here."

"Draco, please, I want to go."

"You may once I spank you."

Distressed to weariness and stupefaction, she then did something she wouldn't have believed she'd ever do just moments ago. Stuffing her thumbs down either side of her pants, she uninhibitedly took them down—her panties as well—to leave them at her knees.

"Is this _so_ wondrous?" she asked shakily.

Draco's mien had never been more enigmatic, and so indeed blank in wonder, with a gape that resembled a complete dope's. His glints tacked to her nudity, her self-consciousness gradually peaked. Seeing this, such a dainty slit sprouted with trimmed auburn hairs, left him a panting, goggling, testosterone-massed adolescent again.

"This should be meaningless," she said in a cracked voice. "Why can't you be disgusted by me like you are with my mudblooded friend? Huh?" She dizzily squirmed out of her shirt, and her bra dropped to the floor atop her other scrunched garments. Draco might have literally gone into shock as the stark witch climbed onto his lap, her hands squeezing his shoulders for support while she adjusted herself, fat mascara tears flowing her face, streaking her cheeks a faded, sooty black. "There, you can fuck me now," she whispered, too addled to be humiliated. "Go on."

This had gone too far. His erection protuberant, he still did what was morally appropriate for this type of condition. He shook his head, swallowing thickly as he lifted her off of him. He unbuttoned his shirt to cover her up.

"Get under the blanket. I'm sorry...I should have put a stop to all this before it hurt you."

"You're not sorry," she snapped. "Now I finally surrender myself to you and you pull a gentleman's card on me, much like Neville would."

"You're in no state for sex, Potter," he reasoned curtly, slipping out of his shoes. "I won't take you like this."

"You didn't think I'd do it, did you? Actually undress."

"I guess I didn't," he confessed.

"Neither did I," she mumbled, slight remorse cruising in.

He joined her, but kept a distance for a few minutes. As her sniffling and quivering eased some, he inched to her to lay his right hand over her middle, spooning her tenderly. Grooming her locks over her bare shoulder and above her head, he peppered the nape of her neck and upper back with rich kisses, all the while struggling to keep his mouth from venturing out of these limits.

"...Draco?"

His mouth paused where it was nearby her shoulder blade.

"It's occurred to me, lately, the reason Voldemort picked you to carry out the deed he set. I think-"

"No, I don't want to talk about that, love, not now."

"Please, let me finish. I think he's very disappointed and upset with your dad for dropping the prophecy last year. I think he chose you because he knew you wouldn't be able to...to kill someone. I think this was his way of punishing your father-"

Wrestling her underneath him, he muttered, "If you're trying to piss me off again, it's not working. _Why_ he has selected me is inconsequential. I still have to do it."

"But you don't want to, right?"

His expression placated as he slackened, not answering her verbally, but still answering.

"Somewhere buried deep inside, I think you have a conscience, Draco. You just think you're too man to show it."

"I'm not particularly good, Potter."

"Do you ever wish you were?"

"Goodness is an option. I go by what suits me, and I'm bright enough to see that I make mistakes and play by my days with ill intent. We all do what we do, so oh well to it. You're no saint yourself, not after that little stunt."

"Stop, no more fighting," she sighed.

She closed her eyes, fatigued and ready to fall asleep, even in her nudity alongside her very untrustworthy foe. Her head tilting to relax, her view still cut off, she subsequently felt him incline, and he suckled at her clothed, hardened right nipple too promptly for her to react in resistance.

At her gasp, he pulled his shirt aside to uncover her full right breast, and his eyes settled on it temporarily before his lips and tongue got busy. Her senses were clouded as she could only breath in the clean scent his neatly parted hair as his scalp was directly at her chin. She'd loathe herself for this later, but she enjoyed this moment too greatly to muster any resentment toward it presently. That aching sting she'd only felt when she'd been turned-on in her own loneliness twinged in her sex, and filling his ears with mewls and sighs of her delight could not go withheld. Suddenly, she was infinitely divergent to the girl she was a paltry seven minutes earlier. She massaged her fingers into his roots in the same fashion he'd done with her tresses many instances before. After tending to her left breast, he devoured her mouth. Parting her lips, half his body sprawled on top of her, he pondered heavily on what to proceed with.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.

"I want to be," she said honestly. "At least then I'd try to stay away from you."

Lowering his head into her neck to gift her with another batch of smooches, she was so comforted that she began to nod off. She jerked awake when four fingers skimmed her vaginal lips for perhaps five seconds.

"I honor your purity. When we do copulate, you must implore me for it, on your own accord, not in the manner you acted out. That wouldn't be genuine, would it? "

"I should get going," she breathed. "My roommates will question me tomorrow on where the hell I spent the night."

"And who cares if they do. Get your rest. We'll get up at around six or so in the morning and get back to the school then."

"But-"

"Goodnight."

He adjusted himself behind her, keeping her where she was with a linked arm.

.

.

.

He'd dozed off before she did. For a while, her eyes were fixed out the window, the curtains swept aside. As his soft breaths moistened a spot on her back, she put her own hand on his that rested over their blanket. Anomalous as it was, she hadn't really hated him, not after that. There was no love, certainly, nor any like, but this was of significance…

...whatever it was.


	28. Bitty

**Chapter Twenty-Eight  
_Bitty _**

In all authenticity, that night's slumber had been Toni's foremost in months. Sleeping in the nude had been a first for her, and it had been more cozy than she'd ever dreamed, despite Draco's joining.

She woke with a start, the events of the final segments of yesterday surfacing to eidetic proportions. Stretching out beneath the covers and Draco's slackened right arm, she glued her eyes on the miniature desk clock to read 5:17 a.m. Feather-light snoring blew at the back of her head, and though he didn't have her bolted to him, a rapid scramble from the bed would have likely stirred him awake.

Unwilling to play his honey again, or repeat any of the last-night's disasters, she pushed the toned, slender and pale arm out of her way with a cricket's delicacy. By glorious luck, he hadn't roused, so she moved out of bed at a snail's pace. On her feet, very naked, she warmed up, castigating and rueing her latest impulsive shenanigan. She had to venerate Draco for at least letting her hymen keep intact.

One step forward deluged her foot in his inside-out slacks, a pfft to emit on her part. Fixing her bra on, she observed the snoozing Slytherin, admiring his unintentionally innocuous facade. She'd take his harmless unconscious to his calamitous arseholery any time.

Her undies nowhere to be seen, she sighed through bared teeth, peeling the blanket with intense caution just enough to confirm that the item was wadded inside his loosened clamp. Claiming them back would be for too considerable a risk, and she was in no such mood for any more of those.

'_Fair enough. Have it, then. Eternal pervert.'_

Once she was as dressed as feasible, she garnered her fallen wand from the floor, courteously declining breaking Draco's in half for causing her more hell than she could depict in a single sitting. Defying her usual principles once more, she bent to adieu him with a swift albeit benign parting kiss to his cheek.

Her wand clenched upon her exit, she gave the knob a hushed alohomora to her success. She was half-suspecting a complex lock charm to configure as he'd warned hours before. At ease that he'd neglected to come to, she, in her prevailing wariness, tiptoed out of the inn. She stopped at Dominic Maestro's to use the facilities, and then traveled back to the school without dawdling.

* * *

Fay would be clued in to much of Toni's business, but she would be hearing none of this. Their camaraderie was too esteemed to let expire. Such thoughtless sin would be dismissed, deemed ridiculous enough to rid what conviviality they shared.

It was simple. The entire encounter with the Slyth was to go unmentioned, as if it were a trifling dream; not a thing to take seriously. Her antics alone were, oddly, not regretted, but sought righteous when considering the prime cause leading up to her rash undressing episode. What more was to be thought of it than a done exploit? This wasn't anything to feel guilty over. Neville was no longer her sweetheart, she could forget any kindling with Remus, and the friends would remain incognizant.

If a solitary aspect did stand as awkward and boggling, it was that as of the last nine or so hours, she had, perhaps psychosomatically, felt closer to the boy, like they were truly, as he'd claimed, not friends, but something better.

For her own health, she'd steer clear of him from here on out.

Or so she'd give it a heartfelt shot...

.

.

.

_Reminisce: Fall of 1993 - Buckbeak_

"You know Professor Trelawney's off her head, Toni. Her 'prophecies' don't mean anything," Ron voiced as the three headed to Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Hagrid.

"Still, omens scare me, regardless of who they're from. What she said...about the grim; it could jinx me somehow," Toni sighed, sluggishly plodding downhill.

"Well, if you ask me, I think Divination's a very woolly discipline. I much prefer Ancient Runes for its fascinating subject material," Hermione announced.

While Ron and Hermione were enveloped in a conversation involving how in Godric's name Hermione was taking both Divination and Ancient Runes during the same hour, Toni fell behind, frowning as she fixated on Trelawney's augury.

"_It's...the __**Grim**__!"_

"Yippee," she groaned. "Another death threat to look forward to."

"That's not all you get to look forward to!"

Robed arms laced with green slid around her middle as her back struck the chest of the moderately taller Slytherin's. Lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle lumbered alongside, ready to capture the witch if she tried to decamp. She wasn't so hasty, not since the second week of her first year once she accepted Draco's annoying brow-beatings. In this day and age, his grabby gestures were quite expected.

"Yes, Draco, I also get to look forward to kicking your lousy arse!" she chirped as if to egg him on.

"Yeah, Potter? Give that a go, won't you? I'd love to see you take me down," he hectored her, his wand poking her ribcage, his nose burrowing into her hair.

Gritting her teeth, she remarked, "For your sake, the hippie should've foreseen _this_!" Her left foot stamped onto that of Draco's, sending him in a trudging limp, cursing filthy words and intensifying his security on her, the oafs to close in at her onslaught.

"Rotten little bitch!" he snarled, just as his aching foot tripped over a tangled clump of weed—pitching them both in a somersault the rest of the trek downhill, their tomes to roll along. Both teens got to undergo the pragmatic feel of their bodies in the tight embrace they kept for the steep rotation, only Draco taking any pleasure in this.

A batch of students at the bottom waiting around Hagrid's hut inspected the toppled boy and girl as if they'd caught view of an oddity akin to what they were about to be faced with in the forest. The blond ending up on top rose to snicker, "Thanks for the ride," ejecting a departing spit down on her forehead.

Hermione and Ron jogged to her aid as Hagrid was leading his students into the forest. The trio took their turns badmouthing the Slytherin all the walk, distracted when Neville's textbook began gnawing at him, tipping him straight to the ground.

"Cuddle it, Neville. Pet it along its spine," Toni suggested whilst following the others.

"Now, form a group over there, all er yeh," the half-giant instructed as they reached a certain open area of the woods. "An' open to page forty-nine."

"Exactly how do we do that?" Hogwarts' top snoot scoffed.

'_Uneducated yuppie,'_ Toni's brain snorted.

"I think they're funny," Hermione opinionated.

"Oh yeah, terribly funny. Really witty," Draco cut in past the throng of students. "Gods, this place has gone to the dogs. Wait till my father hears that Dumbledore's got this oaf teaching classes," he goaded concludingly, sniggers audible from the surrounding snakes, specifically Crabbe and Goyle.

"Can't you ever keep that impolite trap of yours shut, Mr. Proud?" Toni burst out. "Or is your mind too underdeveloped to think things over thoroughly enough to swallow such statements?"

A symphony of "oohs" filled the air as Draco strutted up to the girl, a cocky smirk set for intimidation. Pausing in front of her, his expression awed, and his eyes enlarged as he stared past her left shoulder, pointing above her head, stammering, "Dementor! Dementor!"

Inordinately paranoid as she was, she spun in that direction along with many other students, mocking chortles to result. She looked back at Draco to watch him and his boys flip up their pointed hoods and wiggle their fingers, pretending to be specters.

Toni presented either middle finger of hers while Hermione guided her closer to Hagrid, who was approaching, shepherding a monstrous, winged horse-like animal with an eagle's head and upper legs. The squawking beast stimulated many a gape among the pupils, though both Hermione and Toni found him to be gorgeous.

"Isn' he beautiful? Say hello ter Buckbeak!" Hagrid beamed, flinging a ferret carcass into its beak.

"What is that?" Ron blurted.

"That, Ron, is a Hippogriff. Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud. Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do. Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move. It's polite, see? Yeh walk towards him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed to touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt. So, who'd like to come n' say hello?"

Everyone took their rightful steps backwards as Hagrid was facing Buckbeak, including Toni, but just moments before their teacher refaced the crowd, someone had shoved her forward, and careening a glance behind to see that the perpetrator was none other than Malfoy, a wicked gleam in his silvery eyes, she heard Hagrid encourage her.

"Oh, no thank you, Hagrid-"

"Ah, nothin' tuh worry 'bout, dear. C'mon, I'll help ye warm up to 'im."

With hesitance, she did, Hagrid lecturing her with each step nearer the animal. "You have to let 'im make the first move. Tis only polite. Step up, give him a nice bow, then you wait n' see if he bows back. If he does, you can go and touch him, and if he doesn't, well, we'll get to that later."

Keeping back roughly twenty-five feet, she took her bow, bending over at an angle fitting Hagrid's recommendation. She kept her greens even with the hippogriff's yellows, flinching slightly but not moving when he squawked and hoofed at the ground, clearly agitated. Unblinking still as her eyes started to sting, Buckbeak had become mollified, now resilient with the foreign witch. He proved his comfort with a returned bow. Hagrid laughed chipperly, chucking his pet another ferret.

"Go n' pat 'im, you may," the prof permitted. "He should let ye." She questioned him with her circumspect eyes, not up for that quite yet. "Don't be shy, Ton-ya. He won't nip."

'_He just might,' _she mused, footing steadily ahead until she was at its head. Buckbeak ogled her down with similar caution as she rose her left hand and patted a tuft of grayish feathers leading up to his beak. Her make a croaky purr and tilted his head in approbation. Hagrid clapped her on from behind, cuing most of the others to copy the motion.

"He normally does take to women eas'yer, hehe," the prof said, treading to meet her. "Think he's ready ter let ye ride 'im now."

She jerked her head back at him to give her no-thanks, but the massive man had her lifted into his arms too quickly.

"No! Hagrid, please, I - I can't!" she urged him nervously as he swung her onto the beast's back. "Oh, Lord! No - no - no! I can't do it!"

"Lock yer arms round his neck gently, an' don't pull out any o' his feathers, 'cause he won't thank ye for that," Hagrid said, smacking Buckbeak's backside to send him trotting off.

"Shit!" she muttered, as she was moving so fast her hair was swaying in the generated wind, Buckbeak sprinting as a race horse would, though Toni had never even ridden a horse, nor had she mastered the technique of broom flying too well.

A scream that would echo emerged from her as he kicked off from the ground, wings flapping wildly as they flew upward for the clouds. She laid against his back on her stomach while holding on for life. Gliding through the castle's towers and roofs, Toni unclenched her eyes to absorb the surrounding beauty. The sunny sky was crystal clear and marvelous at this height, the landscaping was eye-catching and the air was barely crisp yet in the season, and soothing if anything.

Swooping towards the lake yonder, her view was enhanced as he lowered to dip a claw into the shimmering water. She giggled in euphoria, stretching her arms out in the air, caught up in the moment, then clinging to the thick neck again when he rocketed up.

"Excellent, Buckbeak!" she chanted, so enraptured she wouldn't shake out of her overjoyed daze for hours.

He rounded back over the forest to descend for the ground where Hagrid and the others were. Most were applauding her as they landed. Hagrid gave his ovation as they came to him, helping her down at Buckbeak's stilling. The clapping dwindled when Draco stormed forth, reeking of pride, ranting that, he too, could tame the beast with elementary effort.

"Yeah, you're not dangerous at all, are you? Great ugly brute," he spat. Buckbeak gave a disconcerted neigh, standing on his hind legs and flailing his front—to swat a hoof at the blond's right forearm with cringe-worthy might.

Hagrid hurried to console the animal as Draco laid on his back, rocking, weeping and moaning in pain. Toni was not sympathetic in the slightest. With no one looking, she smirked at his hurting, seeking it well-deserved. He could be so mindlessly haughty, so greedy…

'_I hope he'll change his ways now,'_ she thought as Hagrid carried him out of the woods. '_Maybe he'll think for a second time on things. Maybe he'll be better.'_

* * *

Ron had just turned seventeen four days earlier, and by the fifth of March, he was unconscious in the infirmary, after having supposedly ingested poison. Madam Pomfrey, Toni, Hermione, Ginny, Seamus, Severus, Minerva, Horace, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Albus congregated at the ginger's bedside, many questions arisen.

The night before, Ron had eaten what amortentia-filled chocolates his girlfriend left for him on the foot of his bed, and with a goofily head-over-heels in-love Ron required a visit to Horace's office for a remedy, so Seamus took him. Horace confessed to treating both boys to some wine, and Ron, being the first to chug, convulsed on the spot.

"Precise thinking on using that bezoar, Horace…" Albus eyed the bottle of fatal intent, approaching the prof holding it. "This appears to be a gift, Horace. You don't remember who gave you this bottle?"

"No," Horace replied, shaken-up.

"Hm, it possesses remarkably subtle hints of licorice and cherry, if not polluted with poison."

'_God, no!'_

Toni went very ill suddenly. Her confiscation of his first bottle had apparently done no justice. He'd gone and gotten himself another, nonetheless. Her lips ajar, she thought to speak out what she knew, but why would any of them take her word to heart? Recalling Minerva and Snape's reaction from when she'd named Draco off the day Katie Bell was cursed, she withheld the fact, for now, at least, since Ron had been gradually convalescing.

"Actually, I'd been meaning to give it as a gift myself," Horace said dismally.

"To whom, I might ask?" Albus inquired.

"...To you, headmaster."

The room fell silent for a second or two, but it was brought to life with shrill sputterings, revealed as Lavender's as she scurried past Severus and Horace.

"Where is he?! Where's my Won-Won?! Has he been asking for me?"

Hermione's anger at such an arrival went noticed by both Toni and Ginny who sat across the bed.

"What's she doing here?" Lavender growled.

"I might ask you the same question," Hermione said, taking a stand.

"I happen to be his girlfriend!" the pig-tailed girl retorted.

"I happen to be his...friend," Hermione noted.

"Don't make me laugh! You haven't spoken in _weeks_! And now you pay him attention since he's all interesting like _this_!"

"He's been poisoned, you daft dimbo! And for the record, I've always found him interesting!"

The vicinity's debate had faltered when Ron fidgeted, grunting momentarily, his coherent word made out being: _Hermione_

Lavender fled, moping at the happy irony, and Hermione looked more satisfied than she had in half a year.

"Oh, to be young, and feel love's keen sting," Albus sighed humbly. "Well, come along, everybody. Mr. Weasley's well-tended.

Ginny and Seamus left with the staff and Ron's parents, but Toni lingered by just to wordlessly wish Hermione congratulations.

.

.

.

Going by Fay's instruction had been more viable than Toni had expected. Classes aside, she'd avoided Draco for a full month following the predicament in the Hog's Head. She'd been out of the pub just as long, and that, she didn't enjoy.

He would leer her, and sometimes glare, but that was all he'd do. She'd learned. She was now keeping her friends closer and her enemies far, far off. In that month, her and Neville had restored their friendship, and while he still felt affectionate towards her, he accepted their platonic terms.

On the twenty-third that month, Dobby dashed into the Great Hall, hollering loudly and inscrutably. Instantaneously, Toni, Hermione, Ginny, and Fay stood, sure of what the problem was already.

"Winky's in labor! Oh, the baby's on the way, Miss Antonia Potter!" he cried. "In the hospital wing! Dobby needs you to follow!"

Toni, Gin and Fay were giddy, Hermione composed, taking Ron's collar and jerking him up, forcing him to be civil and come along, though he'd have much rather finished his breakfast. The five pursued the excited elf from a ways behind, for he was rapid on his feet this morning.

Curtains were shrouded around a bed at the left end of the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey had a portion cracked open for herself. As they met her at the bed, she slid the curtain apart a bit more to exhibit the plump-bellied elf, her bony legs spread wide, a large blotch of blood stained on the towels she laid on, the white bed sheets covering her breasts. A pan of water sat on a table next to the nurse along with a pile of clean towels and a miniature nightgown.

The elf herself had her eyelids sealed as she squeaked in agony. Dobby stepped to her side, taking her little hand in his, looking down at her endearingly. The sight had all the girls smiling in tears, but Ron grimaced as any boy would.

"Merlin almighty, this is beautiful," Fay said, getting closer to glance at the infant's crowning.

The three other girls had a peek for themselves while Ron waited by the other bed. Winky gazed up at the father-to-be, half-lidded, squeezing his hand white, shuddering. Ginny asked Madam Pomfrey if an elf's birthing was shorter in duration than a human's, to which they were all answered that it was, and by nearly half the usual time.

"Isn't there anything you can give her to ease the pain?" Toni asked Poppy.

"I dosed her a narcotic at 7:30 this morning. I could only give her so much with her size."

"We were downstairs in the kitchen when her water spilled loose," Dobby said. Toni and Hermione regarded him as the other two didn't shift their eyes from the scene between Winky's thighs. "She had been aching terribly since midnight…"

"This is phenomenal, Dobby," Toni exclaimed. "You must be so proud."

"Dobby has never been prouder," he replied.

"Eeeeep!"

"Just several more hard pushes, sweetie," Poppy said, her head ducked and her hands ready to capture the newborn.

"Does the placenta come out after…?" Fay asked.

"I have disposed of it already, about fifteen minutes ago," Poppy said curtly.

One-hundred and twenty seconds later, a final caw broke from Winky and the child was out and wailing, doused in blood and no larger than a football. Even Ron had stood with the girls to see the baby's golden eyes bulge and take up most of her face at being cleaned in the tub with a soaked washcloth and soap. Her nose was slightly pointed and perhaps an inch long.

"Oh, it's a little girl, love," Toni whispered into Dobby's ear.

His eyes brimmed with tears as he nodded in acknowledgment, reaching out to take his towel-bundled daughter in his arms. He sat on the bed at Winky's side, placing her into the mother's lap. Winky cradled her, her own tears produced.

"...Bitty," Winky cooed, eyeing their young fondly.

Afterward, the bottom of Toni's shirt was tugged at, as was Fay's. "They're having a moment," Hermione hushedly pointed out. "We should vacate; leave them be for a while." She pushed Ginny and Ron in front of her.

"I'll come back later," Toni told either elf, grinning for them as she exited.

…

That evening, Toni caught Draco sneaking upstairs, and she was near enough to read the strain etched in his face. She'd probably be right in supposing where he was headed, but she did the foolish again, because she had a real talent for doing such.

"Draco!"

He took one step more and looked downward at her. She stepped up to meet him, formulating what to say and do.

"Dobby and Winky had a baby this morning, a girl. They named her Bitty. I want you to come with me to see them."

"I'm really not that interested, Potter," he grumbled. Close-up, the dark circles cast on his bottom eyelids and their bags seemed more pronounced than usual. He was stressed out of his mind.

She grabbed his wrist and began to step down. "Come on. They're adorable, the little trio. Maybe seeing them will awaken some humility in you-"

"Give it a rest, won't you?" he snapped. "You're trying to sidetrack me out of doing what I've got to do. It's not going to work. Run along."

She clouted a flat palm across his face then, at her wit's end, yet again. "I have to! Ron was poisoned because of you!"

"No, his poisoning was on his arse, you ignorant girl. He indulged himself, didn't he? I didn't force it down his throat."

"You need to stop this-"

"I won't." He pulled out of her hold and ascended expeditiously.

Refusing to yield already, she blurted, "Why didn't you have sex with me?"

He stood still once more, and faced her to say, "You don't want me."

"But I could," she said.

"Yeah, we've been through that, haven't we?"

"You know, I think...my light is dimming."

"What?"

"You told me that when...my light goes out, you'll be waiting in the shadows."

"But your 'light' won't die, Potter. It's not meant to. Now, I don't have anymore time for this metaphorical shit."

Her chest heaved as he went on. Certainty had it that it was the headmaster he was trying to kill, and with his so blatant struggling united with the head's adroit sentient, she was confident that Draco would bomb his performance. She wanted to kill him herself some days, and others she just wanted so hugely to ameliorate him. He was correct. With her light, she couldn't do the former or the latter.

…

"You guys are going to make a lovely family," Toni said, their fourteen-ounce elf supported in her arms.

"Yes, Winky and Dobby do wish for the best in raising our Bitty," Dobby affirmed. "Dobby will miss Antonia Potter and her friends when he is away. Dobby will be sure to visit when he can."

"Yes, I know you will, darling. I can come to see you this summer. I'll check up on you with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and maybe Fay and Luna. Things are going to go amazing."

Toni set the sleeping baby into Winky's lap and pecked either parent's head. "Sleep nice, duckies. I'll return tomorrow."

* * *

Sticking her bare feet out of the bathwater and onto the ledge, Toni sighed sadly, forbidding thoughts occurring to her.

"Fay's right. I do care about Draco."

"Why, of course you do, Annie. Haven't you always?"

"I can't say I have, Myrt. He was my first bully. He had me under his supervision from the start of first year."

"And so now you've grown attached to him."

"That's what horrifies me. It'd be like falling for a murderer. Well, if he pulls this off, then that's exactly what it will be."

"Is your crush on the Snake really your prior concern? Shouldn't you be focusing on bigger stuff, Antie Mary?"

"...Yes. I need to keep an eye out for the headmaster, since, as you probably already knew, Draco's been chosen to murder him. I have faith that Dumbledore is too powerful to be put to death so easily...Draco, he's a mess just thinking about what he's supposed to do. He won't kill him...I just know he won't."

"That insight...it's blossoming, Annie."

"Oh my God, really?" she stammered, elated. "He - he isn't going to do it?"

"I'll leave you to your own right perception to solve that one out, Anne," the spirit chimed with a wink.

Toni laughed, so enthusiastically relieved. "He _can_ make amends, then. I hoped for so long that he could. He's not evil...He's just selfish, then, right? He's only who I decided he was six years ago."

"Yaaaawn, Anne. Won't you try to boast on something different?"

"Well, I've got to meet Dumbledore in his office tomorrow after my classes. He's going to pester me on getting that memory, I'm sure. Horace is blocking me out entirely. Asking for it does me no good. I am no one to nominate to persuasion. Albus should have gotten Hermione to do it."

"Patience, Anne. You need to store that virtue. You will achieve more ahead in time, if you would just wait things out."

"Tell that to Albus. He reiterates me every week. He's bound to drown me in scoldings tomorrow."

.

.

.

As she stood outside the headmaster's door, she could hear Professor Trelawney arguing inside. She was upset that she was not the only divination prof, and threatened to resign as she made her exit. Toni provided her leeway for the flustered gypsy before going in, bracing herself for the wrath to rain.

"Antonia," he breathed, "have a seat, would you?"

"Um, look, sir, I know you need that memory…"

As predicted, his expression grimmed somewhat. "You have yet to procure it," he sighed.

"I'm trying, sir! He's not lenient. I don't think I'm the right person to do this."

"You must. I do disdain pressuring you, but that accurate information will lead us to some answers. Do give a hearty effort this week. Now, I have two memories to review with you in the pensieve. The first shows Tom Riddle as a younger man when he worked at Borgin and Burkes. Come here."

Indeed, they'd floated over a handsome twenty-something brunet departing the dark arts shop. He travels from house to house in a nearby neighborhood, soliciting witches and wizards to pawn their prized mementos and heirlooms to the very store he works for. Eventually, an elderly witch who goes by the name Hepzibah Smith shows him her two most prized possessions: the golden Hufflepuff Cup and the Slytherin Locket. Apparently, both items are ancient and of extreme value. Voldemort is quite attracted to them. The memory closes with seeing his desperation.

"Two days after his visit, Hepzibah was found dead. Her treasures had been stolen, and her house-elf, Hokey, had been blamed. She may not have been his first murder, but she was first to be slaughtered out of personal gain, rather than revenge. Now, on to this one."

Dumbledore himself is confronting Voldemort in Hogwarts ten years after his graduation from there. Voldemort is asking him for a teaching position, just as he'd asked straight after graduating. After a series of inquires, Dumbledore discerns that he doesn't have intentions to teach, but to influence the students while in reach of the powerful knowledge that the school holds. The head explains that he knows of the heinous doings Voldemort has havocked over the last decade, and he tells him that he obviously hasn't attempted to comprehend the foundation and instinct of love.

Voldemort, highly displeased, debates that there is no proof in the world suggesting that love is in any level or form supreme or important, and scorns that the older man has pushed the boundaries of magic for degeneration. Dumbledore is perturbed by this, but expresses his regret in failing to inculcate a prowess in him to find love and peace in the world.

Lifted upright by her shoulder, Dumbledore said, "Since that night, resulting in my choice to refuse him that teaching position has led to all the following teachers keeping charge of the class for no longer than a year."

"The curse…" Toni noted. "I always thought it was coincidence."

.

.

.

Six days after Bitty's birth, Dobby and Winky were making their part from the school to Cuffley, where their parenting would flourish. Toni, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Fay and Luna gave their farewells at the Great Hall's hearth where the three elves were vanishing by floo.

After that, the days were racing by to Toni. Horace feigned dumb when beseeched for his thought of significance. Hermione aced her Apparition test, Ron virtually did, but his forgotten brow marked him without a pass, and Fay passed, though she confided in private that she'd left behind her right hand's mole, and luckily, only she noticed.

By late March, Fay had officially grown feelings for Theodore Nott. She'd prattle on the Slytherin after classes with Toni, and the redhead in turn admired the prospective couple-to-be. Her and Draco were too unorthodox to be sought as an admirable relationship. Theo was your ordinary snotty, biased, sardonic and cunning Slyth, but he found something he liked in Fay, as demonstrated on the 31st when he finally chatted with her in a corner of the library.

Ginny had broken up with Dean, finally, for all they had been was a match made in hell, as the fifth year girl professed, but that was overstated on the authority of Toni who partook in the arrant match made in hell.

April had come with twenty risen suns and nineteen moons before an ink-smeared letter from Hagrid's hut found its way to the trio on the twentieth's Sunday night, announcing his blind Acromantula's demise.

...

_Reminisce: Spring of 1993 - Aragog_

Entering the Forbidden Forest, a remote hissing roar resonated in the air. Ron whimpered, shaking the lantern so badly that Toni had to take it.

"Act natural, Ron. This is important."

"How the bloody hell is following spiders ever _important_?!" Ron disputed.

"Hagrid knows what he's doing, otherwise, he wouldn't have sent us out here."

"Oh, I hate spiders!"

"I don't really. I had a pet house spider in my under stairs cabinet when I was about four. I named him Bert. He kept me company for two or so months until Uncle Vernon overheard me talking to him and smashed him to death with a newspaper."

"Not to hurt your feelings, Toni, but I think he did the right thing. What if that spider had been a female? It would have laid eggs and they would have hatched into _thousands_ of spiders."

"Well, he was by himself in the two months I had him. I'm sure he would have mated by then."

They ventured deeper into the mist encompassing the woods, trailing behind the widows by no less than eight feet. Traipsing past the moundy ground led them to where masses of spiders moved inside of a woodsy tunnel.

"There's no way in hell I'm going in there!" Ron whined. "They'll drop right on our heads!"

Taking in a hefty breath, she adjusted her jacket's hood over her hair and soldiered forth alone until Ron forced himself along. Having always held a soft spot for all living organisms—spiders included—she mumbled an apology to every spider her feet crunched on in her ducked walk onwards, Fang in the lead.

A girlish shriek rang from the ginger behind, insinuating that a spider, or multiple, had probably fallen onto him. She rolled her eyes to it, for she could feel some five crawling on her back. "Almost there, Ron."

The cave's other end impending, the amount of arachnids had reduced. Hiking into the moonlight, the two made it to a tall and wide circular pit-like structure, its interior coarse with webbing. Both flinched at the sudden raspy inquiry of, "_Whooo is it?_"

Toni clamped her free hand to Ron's yap, foreseeing his petrified howl. They did not respond, and instead, waited.

"_Hagrid, is that you?_"

"Hagrid knows us! He sent us!" Toni shouted.

Then, the voice's owner came into their sights with a single enormous twig-like leg, the rest of him to manifest. Ron's cold hand gripped her own as the tarantula beheld sized up to a mammoth.

"Er...Aragog?" Toni asserted with minuscule bravery.

"Yesss, Hagrid has never sent anyone into our hollow before. I take your claim in knowing him a fabrication."

"Hagrid's just been taken into custody by the Minister for Magic," Toni explained. "He's being framed for attacks in Hogwarts. They believe he's opened the Chamber of Secrets again."

"PURE FALLACY!" the giant boomed. "Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets!"

"Oh...you're not the monster, then? Word has there's a-"

"I am not. The monster was born in the castle. I arrived to Hagrid in the pocket of a traveler from a distant land."

"Um, then do you know who murdered Myrtle Warren fifty years ago?"

"We do not dictate nor do we bring it to mind. It is an ancient creature we spiders fear above all others."

But can you describe him, or it, for us?"

"I was blessed in seeing nothing more than the inner box from which I was trapped in. The monster's look is unbeknownst to me, as is any region of the castle. The girl was discovered in a lavatory. When I was accused, Hagrid hid me out here."

"T-t-toni, look up!" Ron squealed.

A copious parade of spiders as big and bigger than Fang draped down, nearing them swiftly. This had her wincing with Ron, their magnitude constructing a phobia in her.

"Shitshitshitshit!" she breathed.

"We're sorry for disturbing you! We're going now, okay?" she said.

"My young are starved, so deprived of ripe meat. I've taught them to seek Hagrid as one of the kin, but you are strangers, and on your own did you stumble into our midst."

The critters landed and sped for the Gryffs. "Wand, Ron!" she spat, the lantern fending off few. "Um, arnia-"

Headlights zoomed to them, the crowding in spiders to scurry at the approach of Ron's long-lost Ford Anglia. Hands entwined, they bolted forward, clambering into the vehicle together on the passenger's side with Fang, then locking the doors up. Two of them crashed down, cracking the windshield and denting the roof. Automatically, the car reversed itself uphill fast enough to fly from a bank's edge and hit the ground with a sturdy quake, knocking either spider clean off.

Either child panted, Ron calling that _a close one_ too soon, for three hairy legs had him clutched through his window. Toni took aim, sputtering, "Arania Exumai!"

Their space gleamed a brilliant bleached blue, launching the spider a ways down the forest floor. Just as Ron gave his heartfelt thanks, the army surfaced from up ahead.

"Fly us up!" Toni muttered.

Ron veered in the opposite direction, saying, "The flying gear's jammed!"

"Christ, keep - just keep at it!"

They screamed to curdle blood as a horde of spiders awaited them ahead. It took four hands to pry the shift back so that they were airbound, having barely evaded the spiders who missed their leap for them.

* * *

"I'm going to help him dig the grave. He loved that creature like a brother," Toni said to Ron and Hermione.

"It's too late, Antonia. Filch will be patrolling in ten minutes," Hermione reasoned.

"Not coming with, then? Suit yourself. Hagrid needs company right now, and I'm going to provide it."

"Have you forgotten what the blasted spider did to us?" Ron asked sternly. "It's been four years since he sicked his thousand and some kids on us, and I'm itching to celebrate his bucket-kicking."

"I'm not doing this for the spider, I'm doing it for Hagrid! See you guys."

…

Strolling into the dusk for the hills, Draco had her captivated, and he wasn't even about. Myrtle was notorious for her tittering teasing, but, if definite that the purportedly unwilling death eater lacked the guts and malevolence to assassinate Dumbledore, then allure was ineluctable to dominate the witch. Draco had already owned some piece of her heart—through the ingraining damage, worship, confessed love, oh, those kisses of splendor, all the disgust and sheer rancor—it all budded in her duplicating his feelings for her, dire and farcical as she would have diagnosed just that not three months ago—but, if he were to amend himself to near perfection, could he really have it all? Could she bring herself to surrender and come to love him?

She halted in her tracks midway downhill, the lit hut below just forty feet in reach.

"Dear God," she gulped, "I have a crush on the bastard."


	29. Sectumsempra

**Chapter Twenty-Nine  
_Sectumsempra_**

Grabbing a shovel from the half-giant's trembling hand, Toni stabbed it into the earth, wrought in both the upcoming colossal burial and her newfound swooning for the Slytherin. She glowered.

'_So I strip to nakedness for him and now I feel a bond?'_

"He made mistakes, ye know, but he was der bes' spoyder I ever got to befriend, he was."

'_And I let his hands roam down there_—_twice_—_stimulating my will to...oh hell no...'_ Her heart palpitated in her grotesque revelation, but Hagrid's grieving was too passionate for him to catch it as she tore at grass, dirt and roots. '_...my will to touch him back...but...not - not sexually...or...'_ She twitched, her imagination picturing the pureblood just as nude as she was for him in her loss of cool and modesty. '_He wouldn't stop...I didn't know what else to do.'_ She pierced her spade with a yipping grunt in her flurried state of thought, Hagrid still mourning too profoundly to take note. '_I'm so damn tacky! I'm so charmed by his kissing and weisenheimer-ing that I hanker for more of it!'_

"Didn' want ter live in those woods f'rever, he didn'. Once told me he wanted ter start anew out in the Netherlands...big n' spacious country somewhere out there. You seen his kids, Ton-ya. Y'know who 'e made 'em with?'

"No."

'_Speaking of which, who I am going to breed with? Children with Draco? Ha!'_

"Lisandre was her name. Twas 'nother acromantuler he met in round '54. I greeted her meself. Was a pretty, well-mannered spoyder, she was, but died a few years before you were born. Aragog was dever'stated by it, but bein' the species he was, kind'er had ter move on, ye know? Mate with other female acros. We're buryin' him directly next ter her, ye know. Why, Lisandre's jus' nine feet ter yer left."

'_Does that leave Remus to...play house with me?'_

Toni felt a very strange sensation tide through her at that consideration. Something about that potentiality seemed very, very defective. She didn't get the gist of why precisely, but her mind was telling her that _that_ just could not befall, and the fact did not depress her.

'_But babies, let alone sex with Draco?'_

Well, she did crawl into his lap naked...and his expression fused with arousal and undiluted bemuse had her feeling accomplished, like she'd _conquered_ him, at last, in their six years of conflict. Grueling to concede as it was, she wanted to cram her mouth into his gaping one that night in Room 46 as she straddled him, so mortifyingly bare, his bulge under fabric material seamed with a zipper and button stroking her. In that time, she'd not been more sexually curious in any day antecedent. When she'd asked, well, told for a fucking, maybe she'd meant it; a query of the soul. Would the activity have revamped his persona? Would letting him inside have tamed his omnipotent egotism? Would being _his_ vanquish the bully in him?

"Thank ye ferr comin' out with me, Ton-ya. Really 'preciate it. Got a lot o' diggin' yet. He's not a little feller…oh…" Hagrid sniffled obnoxiously. "Passed on 'bout three hours ago, right over there where I'm pointin'."

'_Where the gigantic, curled-legged back-sprawled corpse is, no joke?'_

"Las' words were: It's been a grand fifty-four years, Rubeus. See ye 'gain someday."

"Not where he's damned…"

"Come 'gain, dear?" Hagrid sniveled.

"He's in a better place."

"Yeah, he is, i'n't he?"

"Are we hosting a memorial or a funeral of some sort? Or are we just going to...bury him?"

"I'm buryin' him tomorrow afternoon, after I give me final respects. Would ye like to join?"

"I will."

"Thought I'd get his restin' place set to go tonight...out'er the way. Was a good acro, he was."

Surveying the body from where they were digging, Toni compared his dimensions to their progress, and shook her head in doubt.

"Um, Hagrid, don't you think Aragog's a bit big...to be put underground? We'd have to dig like four or five times the depth and width of a person's...hole."

Hagrid's sulk furthered, but he nodded and lodged his shovel into the ground. "Yeh've a point. I was diggin' Lisandre's tomb ferr almost two weeks, and she was much smaller...But, I dunno if I can…discard o' his remains with foy're."

"Well, that doesn't sound too bad, Hagrid. We can spread some of his ashes in the wind on the bridge, then recite him a prayer."

"S'pose...Huh. Right, I'll get him underneath some tarp, n' we'll cremate him at sundown tomorrow, er'kay?"

She smiled kindly up at him and patted his back. "Goodnight. I'll be back then."

.

.

.

It was pushing four o'clock in the afternoon that Monday, and Toni had just walked out of Dumbledore's office quite dragooned. School would be letting out for the summer holiday in two months, but the headmaster could wait for that memory no longer. Toni was anxious to encounter the elder next week without the coveted outcome. The line was crossed there; Horace would be permissive _that_ week.

Afoot for Aragog's burning, she had her unused felix felicis tucked into her pants' front left pocket. Timing it out in her head, she reckoned consuming a hint of it after the spider's interment would bid her greater fortune in getting ahold of Horace and demanding that thought than drinking it too early. She was exceedingly hopeful when she spotted said prof meandering up ahead towards the castle's main entrance where she was headed. She ran to catch up, hollering to him.

"Sir! If you're not busy with something else, would you like to come with me to Hagrid's friend's funeral?"

A bushy, gray brow springing to nearly brush his hairline, Horace said, "Sure, certainly. Tragic, losing companions...how old was the man?"

"Acromantula, actually. He was fifty-four. Hagrid said he was smart like a human, though. I personally heard him speak a while ago...He could talk like a man."

'_And rule like Lucifer...'_

"Merlin's beard...how'd he die? Natural causes?"

"I think he caught some deadly virus somehow last summer. It slowly shut down his organs, I guess."

"Ah...will we be transporting by apparition?"

"No, we're cremating him nearby Hagrid's house. Then, we're going to garner some of his ashes in a jar or urn to pour them out on the bridge."

"Oh, he hasn't set him aflame yet, has he? Their venom is luxurious; worth plenty a galleon when traded out."

"I don't think he has…"

"I'll extract some if he is still unsullied. A cup of that stuff can value in hundreds, you know."

'_This is good. Talking will unwind him, and he'll be more opt to lend that godforsaken thought.'_

…

The spider still did lay lifeless on his back, legs twisted in an unsettling and creepy fashion. A black mat-like tarp was rolled out beneath him so that his flame wouldn't spread to the grass and blaze the whole field.

Horace borrowed a dagger and a mug from Hagrid to have at what amount of venom would make him prosperous. Toni took the responsibility of setting fire to the carcass, so with her enunciated, "Incendio," flames had him engulfed and Hagrid plummeting to his knees lamenting heartily.

A heap of soot wouldn't remain for at least a few hours, so the three took shelter in the hut. Dolefully, Hagrid got his cauldron heating for some tea. He also fished out two bottles of red wine and thumped them onto his table clumsily. He twiddled the cork off of one and chugged it for himself.

Horace and Toni took in the depressing sight from where they sat in their facing seats. Horace popped open their bottle and helped himself to a mugful. The witch was tempted, but brightly chose to keep sober for her impending attempt of supplication. Horace kept his quizzical gaze on the sobbing half-giant while Toni sipped at her serving of luck, tentatively swallowing only four drops.

She waited in quiet for over an hour while both adults drunkenly gabbled on various subjects, from dealing with death to the names and lives of a few dozen of Aragog's sons who Hagrid had gotten acquainted with over the years. Hagrid had a deep stupor going for him by quarter to six, leaving Horace awake with the girl.

"One spring afternoon a couple of decades back, I discovered a bowl on my desk with just a few inches of clear water in it. Floating on the surface...was a flower petal. As I watched it, it sank. Just before it reached the bottom, it transformed into a wee fish! Just beautiful magic. Wondrous to the hold…That flower petal had come from a lily, your mother. I came downstairs one night to see that bowl empty…"

"The night mum was murdered," Toni said. "The fish represented her lifespan, didn't it?"

"I know why you're here," he sighed, "but I can't help you. What those moments contain...no one, not even Albus can see its authenticity. It ruins me each and every day as it is, just recalling it."

"My mother canceled out the rest of her life in doing what would preserve mine, sir. The way I see it, she ruined herself, but she did what she could in her power to secure what she loved. To think she'd be just thirty-seven now...it kills me some each and every day, just recalling it," she stared at him evenly, "but I cherish her love just the same and I give it to others. Mum was courageous in standing up to what was so agonizingly brutal, and you see this scar here? It exemplifies her bravery and always will. If you care to rectify all my mum lost that night, then you will contribute the conversation you had that day with Voldemort."

"You would regard me poorly...He was savagely...even then."

"I'm not going to judge you any differently. There would be no need to."

Quivering with glassy eyes, the prof lifted his wand to rest its tip at his right temple. He screwed his eyes shut, his face contorted into one of strain and grief as a slender stream attached itself to his wand and dipped it into a spare vial.

Picking it out of his hand, she stuffed it into her pocket ungracefully, muttered a heartfelt thanks and left the hut in a jiffy. The headmaster would be most pleased.

…

Hurrying down the gargoyle corridor whilst skipping into a jog, feeling so eager, she saw Sybill wobbling crookedly in her direction, a flask in her right hand. Toni heard her mumbling some gibberish to herself, evidently tipsy.

"Professor?"

"Oh...um, yes, honey?"

"Are you feeling okay?" She eyed the container that was held aslant. "Are you anxious?"

"A bit, just a bit…" She leaned in murmur into Toni's ear. "There's this secret room in this castle where I've hid my sherry for the last eighteen years I've worked here."

"The Room of Requirement."

Sybill nodded briskly. "Minutes ago, I went up to stock a carton I purchased today in Hogsmeade, but I heard someone else up in there, tinkering with something...I did not stay...didn't mean to intrude...just has me a tad ruffled."

'_Dammit, Draco...'_

"I'll walk you back to your room, professor," Toni offered, putting her arm around the seer's shoulder. "I wouldn't count on anyone finding your stash underneath your bed," she laughed affably. "I have sherry sometimes in the Hog's Head. It's a pub and inn in town. Have you been there?"

"Albus and I related the prophecy in there in my interview for the divination post in the spring of '80. He and I believed we were amid nobody but ourselves. We settled in a room long out of use in the back, but Severus, he had lurked nearby, tuning in...to pass our details onto the Dark Lord…" She swallowed thickly, anticipating Toni's incite at such staggering news.

The teen stiffened, her feet moving no more. "You mean…" Toni gasped, furiously shaking her head in disbelief. "Professor Snape…?"

"He's faithful to our side now, sweetpea. He's a changed man."

"That sleuthing monster!" she breathed, tears stinging in their formation. "I need to talk to the headmaster about this…"

"Oh dear, I am so sorry. Most already know of his past in serving You-Know-Who. I thought you-"

"I did know he was a death eater, but…" she choked back an outcry, "how could he have…"

She sprinted opposite Sybill for the office.

…

A patch of Albus' robe was soddened as his arms embraced the fevered sixth year as she despairingly reacted to Sybill's proclamation. She'd burst into his office, crazily fraught. Albus found her coping method to this scenario quite appropriate.

"The guilt in his participating has afflicted him substantially, Antonia. Do know that. At the time, he was blinded with a desideratum to succeed in being notable in Voldemort's eyes. Frankly, it was a trend among most graduated Slytherins. A cult, so to speak. He's wronged, and in his years servicing me, he has taken on a spy's role, and sworn to the Order his faith in correcting his misdeeds. I trust him in full."

She retracted from him to collapse into the desk chair nearest. "I don't know if I can bear being in his class anymore, sir...When I see him tomorrow...I don't think I'll be able to stop myself from attacking him…"

"I understand your frustration. I'll notify him, telling him that you have my word in your absence from his classes for the next four days. In those missed hours, however, I'd like you to meet me in here for reviewing the pensieve. I've come to consider with defeat that Professor Slughorn is unshakable. There are six alternative memories, yet the one we need most is extensively beneficial in-"

"I got it, though," Toni cut in, standing to tug it out of her pocket. "I drank some of the liquid luck I won last September in his class, and I convinced him to do the right thing."

Albus was awestruck. He stepped to her with a cupped palm. Albus took the vial, and into the pensieve they dove.

* * *

"_Well, you split your soul and cache a part of it in an object outside of the body. Then, even if one's body is maimed or demolished completely, they still cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. One is able to divide their soul by performing the ultimate act of sin_—_ending the life of another person."_

"_Would a wizard be more powerful if he created multiple horcruxes and hewed his soul into, say, seven alternating segments?"_

"_Why...yes, but that would necessitate in killing more than a single person…"_

Horace had said that she'd think poorly of him, and she had, somewhat, but she also reminded herself that he didn't know of his narration's repercussion. Nobody knew what Tom Riddle would become, hence, Voldemort alone was at fault for his own depraved choices in his surviving.

The memory had confirmed Dumbledore's theory. In Voldemort's duration at Hogwarts, he'd been building on his ambition to be immortal, and the potions teacher had aided him in bestowing him the knowledge in achieving such a coup. So, Voldemort had certainly went about his goal in separating his soul into seven pieces. Presently, six laid somewhere out there apart from his body. The diary had been obliterated in her second year, marking it dealt and done with. The Gaunt ring had been annihilated already, leaving them with four to recover plus Voldemort himself.

They got to speculating the pieces encasings. Vessels such as Hufflepuff's Cup, Slytherin's Locket, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tokens were brought up on Albus' account. Voldemort's snake, Nagini, even went posited by the head. Albus enlightened the girl in his missions throughout that year in seeking these lost horcruxes. On his next journey out, he invited her to tag along, and she acquiesced. That date had yet to be scheduled.

The key of that evening's lesson had centered Toni's forte for loving. Though not recanted to Albus, she had to agree. She did love and admire astutely, even those who should not have been vouchsafed that heed, such as her aunt and uncle, cousin, and most recently, Draco.

Her knack to give love was a uniquely mighty defense in itself, for out of all the preeminent power the Dark Lord did carry, love was not incorporated. Voldemort's obsession with the prophecy had concluded in his opponent, Antonia, who was doomed to die at his ascendancy if even one of the horcruxes kept pristine.

The confines of Toni's skull were expatiated with destiny and her own entailed commitment in the days, months and year to course in. Supremely, this was all in her hands. Bringing her parents, namely her mother's sacrifice to mind, she approved, more than willing to come to grips with all that would swarm for her, and imminently at that.

.

.

.

_Sectumsempra - For Enemies_

"There was an old newspaper clipping in the library featuring an article on a witch who went to school here during the late forties," Hermione said as Toni swept over a random page in The Half-Blood Prince. "Her name was Eileen Prince. She was captain of a gobstones club in her seventh year. I've hypothesized that perhaps she was the owner of that book. She could have selected 'Prince' as a pseudonym, to maintain a guarded identity in case she'd misplace it."

"That's sensible," Toni replied. "Whoever it was, they were pretty intelligent. Most pages are filled with made-up spells. Some of them sound kind of nifty."

"Sectumsempra?" Fay said from beside her. "It's without a definition."

"All of them are. I suspect he or she acknowledged the spells for their own personal advantage, seeing no reason to jot their meanings, but it is weird that they left this behind. I wouldn't forget to take home something like this."

"You're going to get rid of that at the end of term, aren't you?" Ginny piped in.

"Of course. It'll lead whoever uses it next year to passing Slughorn's course with flying colors, like it has me. This cheat-guide ought to be promoted."

"Have you tested any of the spells in there, Ant?" Fay asked.

"I'm afraid to. Some could be disastrous. I don't want to blow up anything or harm anybody."

"You oughta try that one on McLaggen," Ron said, his index finger on the inked incantation of discussion. "Bugger's been acting like a god in his captain's duty. Bosses us round like we've all got our heads wedged up our arses. Whatever it does, it can't be that harmful."

"Hm, I'll shoot my pillow with it sometime and see what happens to it," Toni said.

…

On the twenty-fifth of April, Toni, in her leisure time, hastened down to Hagrid's to give her remorse in fleeing Aragog's bridge prayer and release of the jarful or twos ashes. He was forgiving with the circumstances, and assured her that Horace dictated a lovely prayer of farewell. The leftover ashes would weather down after a while, and the tarp was disposed of, for its usage was too disheartening a reminder for the half-giant to wish to hang on to for a keepsake.

When Toni resumed her DADA lessons, it took all her strength to ignore Professor Snape. It was easier to keep her eyes downcast. He'd taken offensive notice one day in her refusing to look him back in the eyes when addressed to, and he called her out on it. Reluctantly meeting her greens with his blacks made her left hand tremor as she was so, _so_ ready to smack him silly with it; deface a handprint to his anemic, unsightly, stoic face, or rupture that overly proportioned nose like Draco had hers almost eight months before.

In the interim, Draco was increasingly bedraggled each potions hour Toni would see him. By the start of May, she'd been gawking at him just as he'd done in the months past. He seldom mirrored the action. She was confounded as to why her feelings were hurt by his averted sights, but what was troubling him was conspicuous. Still, Toni was attracted to him for his shortcoming in conducting his designated execution.

'_If what Myrtle said is true, then I will teach him to behave. He's never to utter, or think anyone a mudblood or a blood-traitor again,'_ she mulled pleasantly. '_If being his girlfriend is what it'll take to shape him something comparable to an angel, then so be it. Hermione and Ron and Fay might not condone it initially, but who cares if they don't. I know what I want, and if Draco amends himself, then in his pants I shall long to be.'_

.

.

.

Baths were normally not taken in the prefects' lavatory midday, especially by Toni, but this Friday after classes she had treated herself to one. Myrtle was elsewhere for half an hour, so in that time, the redhead busied herself in playful swimming, shampooing and regretting not bringing in her stereo so she could put one of her Enya CDs on.

When Myrtle did glide in, she enthused, "That Malfoy gentleman is bawling like a widdle baby in the sixth floor's boy's bathroom!"

"Why?"

"I didn't bother taking a peek at his brain. He just strolled in all quick, squirmed out of his schoolboy vest, chucked it through _me!_, turned the tap on and splashed some water in his face, breathing heavily and croaking out the most pathetic of sobs."

"Oh man," Toni sighed, stepping out of the tub. "I'm going to investigate."

She toweled herself up speedily, her hair dripping wet and her skin damp as she redressed and ran up two flights. Her pace decelerated some thirty feet from the facility. The corridor was deserted minus a few passersby as Toni peered into the restroom to, sure enough, recognize Draco's turned back. His head was bowed and either hand of his was gripping a partnering basin, and his shrill weeping was distinguishable as Toni had listened to him cry once before on the night of Slughorn's holiday party. It was melodious when she was irritated with him, and heartbreaking in this instance, when he was appreciated for his decency and hesitancy to transgress.

She tiptoed inside, willing to go unnoticed but needing to see him. She stood behind the pillar to her right beyond a short row of lockers, gandering wordlessly at him, positively enthralled, though she was unsure why that was. In four minutes, he continued his position, gasping, muttering filthy expletives and teeming teardrops over the drain. Several times she opened her mouth, meaning to gain his attention, but she declined in fear of evoking fury in him at her undying eavesdropping.

Three more minutes trickled on, and Draco sniffled noisily, combing his fingers through his untidy hair before craning his head up to rest his puffy eyes straight on the reflection of his peeping, coppery-haired spectator. She winced, as did he.

"_You_," he groaned hoarsely, spinning to face his complicated soulmate.

Stepping back, she mumbled, "Don't be upset, Draco...I just heard you crying and-"—He hurled a hex her way in his sure state of anguish and chagrin, for her to barely duck from it in time. Very taken aback and insulted, she glared back at him. "Please, I don't want to fight-"—Another hex spurted, stooping her to her haunches in a tick.

With negotiation apparently out of the question, she rummaged through her crumpled bathrobe where her own wand was swathed, and she trained it on him. He was panting with narrowed eyes, his face blotchy and soaked. She flicked a curse his way, and his reflexes were acute in saving him from the infliction. He took cover behind the stalls while she got to her feet and ambled further in.

"This is asinine!" she yelled. "Who would you be not to cry in your situation?! I'm - I am _proud_ of you, Draco! This shows that you perceive guilt! You should be-"

She screeched as she was thrown back several feet, stunned, through a crevice between two of the stalls. Draco stormed for her and wrung her up in his arms—enclosing her against the windowpanes beside the last basin to the left. With one hand, he prodded his wand at her cheek and clutched the base of her neck with the other. Baring his teeth, he seemed set to throttle her.

"Draco, no-"

"You must stay out of my business, Potter, or you're going to really, really hurt yourself," he snarled.

"Who's going to hurt me? Voldemort? You're not going to. You couldn't, not really."

"I certainly fucking could!" he objected hotly, pushing his wand harder against her cheek, fresh tears still flowing. "I - I - I will mutilate you!"

"No, you would not. It's not in you, and that's why I've come to develop feelings for you, Draco. I mean, that's what you wanted all these years. You've defiled me, and you've made me suffer, but you've also shown me that you have good in your heart." She smiled gingerly. "I saw your penance, Draco."

His expression softened temporarily, but his scowl was regained in his disagreement to her words. Once more, he tore his left sleeve up and rammed his forearm into her face. "Is this the emblem of _good_, lover? When I had Madam Rosmerta under the Imperius Curse, was that sweet of me? Hm? How about my responsibility in that Katie Bell girl's cursing? Or Weasley's poisoning? Or what I have to do to that old timing bastard?"

"Shh, stop, please. Don't think about it anymore."

"He'll kill me, and he'll kill my mother and father. You are banned from interference from now forth, you get me? I need you away from me. That prohibits you from following me all over and spying. If I have to violate you in order to motivate what I'm saying into your tiny, deteriorated brain, then I will."

"Or we could just kiss and make up as usual, right, love?"

Exhaling through his nostrils, he flushed a deep red, so livid he felt it was eating him alive. "You're finally hot for me, you say? Well, I'll change your mind right here, pet." He brushed up against her, his body to hers, the force and strain making her blench and bolt her eyes shut as he pricked her cheek with his wand.

"..._C-cruciatus_."

She heard him grumble it, but no degree of pain erupted. Her view still blank, she listened to him mutter it three more times, taking solemn offense as her heart had been crushed, yet concomitantly, nothing happened because he hadn't aspired for it in the core of his being. Indignant, she steadily rose her own wand.

"Septum-"

His moist, salty lips plowed hers maniacally. He floundered his deprived, rapacious, fingers through her hair greedily, his tongue plunging into her mouth with avidity. This was too lascivious and predacious to be classified a kiss; it was sloppy, all tongues and teeth, yes, on her part as well. Oh, she was stupid to have given herself to him like this, and she was injudicious to have fallen for him. Toni equated this with a prisoner of a concentration camp fawning over one of its Nazi's within fifty seconds of their necking, but after a minute of the belligerent interchange of spit and battering of their swelling lips, she dismissed this as indulgent simplicity; nothing to be contrite with, chiefly bearing in mind their seclusion; no mates to see them like this, to lambaste and reject.

When she inhaled sharply, he wrung her to him so tightly she was compelled to crisscross her legs around him. Her back was confined to the metal bars of the windowpane rigorously enough to smart her spine, but she was too entranced to alert the other of it. In her haze, she struggled to hold on to him properly, though Draco minded none as his hands were where he wanted them to be. Another minute's messy ravel of her legs and their mouths had her fingers permeating through his shortly trimmed hair, frizzing it somewhat. This show of devotion had outshone all before, even the exquisite one held with Remus, and she hadn't dreamed his would ever be beaten once upon a time.

Ripping his mouth from hers, he stared into her eyes, mumbling, "_Mine. You're all mine, Potter_," to descent his head for her neck and bite and suck deftly.

Her hands massaging into his head still, she panted his name, her breathy gasps encouraging him to hoist her upwards and writhe further inside her thighs. Her stomach coiled as his crotch jutted against her own. His tongue whirling a gratifying area just above her shoulder, she unconsciously ground into him. With her eyes closed for a number of minutes, her blouse had been unbuttoned and her bra was propped over her now exposed breasts for Draco's gratification. Their clothed privates rubbing together, and Draco's right hand dunked down her panties and grasping a buttock, she lazily opened her eyes to see a silhouette by the lockers. She went inert in horror, realizing that someone was with them. Perusing the onlooker, she identified him as Professor Snape. Inarticulate, she squirmed against the Slyth, panicking, her eyes stuck on the gazing prof, her abashment almost blurring her vision.

"Snape! Snape!" she managed to hiss when Draco's mouth clung to her skin, nonstop.

Quelling in his smothering mouth, hips and hands, he glanced toward the front of the bathroom to see who she was seeing, and he shielded her unmentionables with his left forearm, gaping at the intrusive Head of his House with petulance and just the same embarrassment as his witch. Both were speechless until he stalked out of the lavatory without a speck's shame, the billow of his cloak to wave them ta-ta.

Motionless, they leant against one another for perhaps a second, or perhaps a minute or perhaps an hour; neither could be sure, but Toni displayed reaction when she scrammed from her wizard, burgundy everywhere.

"Oh...oh God…"

Draco's countenance pitied her. "It's alright, pet. He's gone."

"Creepy son of a bitch!" she muttered, so humiliated vomit crept up in her chest. Dumbfounded, bodily water cascaded, those tears gallingly perennial. Draco readjusted her bra and rebuttoned her shirt, though only partially.

"Come with me upstairs," he whispered, taking her shaking hand. "The slimy bat won't find us in our room."

"No, I'm sorry…" she replied. "Not...not now."

"You're going to let that loser ruin your libido, baby? If anyone's in trouble, it's me."

"Draco, I can't!" she cried. "I've never been so embarrassed!"

"Give me a break, Potter," he huffed, binding her wrist. "Don't put on that shy act now. Your waist was _bucking_ mine. Your panties must be soaked through."

"No, no, please-"

"_Yes_, please," he grumbled. "You've professed your love for me, haven't you? Don't you need me to tend to your pulsating little clitoris?"

"God, shut up!"

"Do you really want me to?" he challenged bitterly. "In your heart, do you? Entreat me then. All you have to do is ask me to stay away, and I will."

"What if I do? What if I do want to be with you?" she alleged. "And what if wanting you makes me feel very confused and disgusted?"

"Then it does. Feel anything else you like. The affection is superlative, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You want me more than you hate and think grossly of."

"Only because I see improvement, okay?"

"What improvement?! What penance?! You're pretending, Antonia! I will always be a Death Eater and I will always commit to felony. Quit dreaming."

"I have a source. I know more about your own plans than you do." She nodded, mocking his mien of _what the hell are you getting at?_ and sliding her hand from his. "You're not as bad as you believe, Draco."

She walked out. He stayed.

* * *

The dim red of her canopy's ceiling nettled Toni that night for an hour and nine minutes. In her moonlit dorm, in her bed, her eyes blinking, her mind stayed very awake. Her roommates snoozing, she leant up and got her wand. Targeting her pillow, she murmured, "_Sectumsempra_."

The cloth shredded apart in five sections. Feathers exploded outwards as if detonated. Toni stumbled onto the foot of her bed in surprise. As the flurry of feathers and extra cotton settled down to the sheets, she examined the nasty gashes. It nauseated her knowing she'd said half the curse to Draco. She thanked God his mouth on hers muffled out the rest, for she'd have spelled off a nipple of his and slashed his stomach and chest.

Now immensely restless, she snuck out in her nightie and her invisibility gear in hand for the RoR, sure Draco was in there, whether asleep or fiddling with the cabinet. On the trip, she analyzed her attraction to Draco, her innards wrenching all the while. Myrtle and her tittering premonitions be damned. Toni juxtaposed her Draco swooning with the swooning she had for Remus, the swooning that stretched out over three years, and came to an abrupt halt, it seemed.

.

.

.

_Reminisce: Fall of 1993 - Riddikulus_

"Remus is our hottest professor all the way, huh, 'Mione?" Toni giggled, gawking at the leading teacher beyond a dozen students.

"_Professor_ Lupin is twice our age at least, Antonia, but he's exceptionally attractive, I suppose," Hermione opinionated.

"Says you! Who worshiped Lockhart last year? He's not so youthful himself," Ron scoffed.

The muggleborn rolled her eyes as the trio crossed into the staff's lounge. Severus was seated at a table at the end of the room, but was up and quick to leave upon the classes arrival. Neville was belittled thoroughly before the potions instructor had vanished from their midst.

Remus had Neville volunteer, although he did not with his own purpose. The wardrobe at the front of the class wobbled violently. Remus asked the class if they knew what the device was, precisely. Dean voiced his knowledge on the boggart, and Remus hopped to further explanation on the object while Toni was practically drooling at the prof's every syllable, his unkempt appearance even appealing in her eyes. She was so transfixed on the man's lecture that she was unwitting to the index finger that nudged her derrière repeatedly, nor did she hear the wheezy chortling that came with it.

"Now, without the usage of your wands, please, I'd like you all to say 'riddikulus'," Remus announced, for his class to oblige, some halfheartedly, some, like Toni, animatedly. "Good, now a little louder, listen, _ridd-i-kyoo-lus_."

"Riddikulus," Toni beamed jovially with everyone, willing to sock the living daylights from Draco when she overheard his low tsk and viewpoint on how he sought the class ridiculous.

"Very good. however, the incantation itself does not quite serve. What really vanquishes a boggart's manifestation is laughter. You need to assume it a mould you find amusing, as Mr. Longbottom here is going to typify. Neville, what frightens you most of all?"

"P-professor Snape," the docile third year mumbled.

All chuckled but Toni, who concurred earnestly with the boy's answer.

"You live with your grandmother, yes?" Remus said.

"Yes, but I don't want that boggart to turn into her either!" Neville stammered.

"No, no, I just need you to picture your grandmother's attire in your mind as clearly as you can. When I open that wardrobe, here's what I want you to do."

Remus whispered something to Neville, and while he did, Toni got around to noticing a left hand cupping her bum. Casually, she grabbed the hand and sunk her fingernails into it, muttering a warning past her shoulder that the blond's able arm would be fractured too if he didn't learn to _not_ feel her up pervertedly. Malfoy pulled back obediently as a doppelganger of Severus strode from the wardrobe, towards Neville.

"Riddikulus!" Neville shouted, his wand dressing the replica up in a green outfit with kitten heels, a hat with a stuffed vulture atop his head and a ruby handbag. He was snapshot worthy.

"Form a line. I want you to envision something you fear most and morph it into something funny," Remus said.

Toni tried to stand at the very butt of the file, but people, including Draco and his cronies kept behind her. Ron was shoved upfront to reveal his boggart as a spider nearly half Aragog's size. He gave it roller skates, and Parvati charmed her snake into a jack-in-the-box. Seamus' toxic fungi became a pile of fly buzzing manure. Toni wound upfront soon afterward.

It saddened her pondering what it was she feared principally. There was much she feared greatly. Voldemort, her parent's corpses, dementors, Azkaban's escapee, Sirius Black...the boggart was swirling for a while as she searched for her biggest nightmare.

Her subconscious intervened, as a hooded man gripping a 13 ½ inch wand was fabricated. The boggart's face was hidden by the drooping hood, but somehow, Toni knew who this was. It was who'd impacted her existence from fifteen months of age onward. Out of all of which had haunted her in some semblance, from Uncle Vernon's wrath to Fluffy, from Flint to Draco's crude touch to dementors, the nationwide reprehensible had her routinely waking from her slumber in tears to her mother's keening to life's departure that had inched to recollection from the basement of her mind. She wasn't one hundred percent on just how He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named looked, but this boggart converted into her brain's guesswork, perhaps from memory, perhaps from belief.

This boggart, acting as Voldemort, had his wand two or three feet from her face until the professor blocked it from closing in. Voldemort spun into a full moon encircled by drifting clouds in a night sky. His stated riddikulus deflated it to whiz throughout the class and students and back inside its customary wardrobe.

Jittery, Remus dismissed the class, asking Toni to stay momentarily for a word. As everyone headed out, Ron stepped by to ask where Hermione had disappeared off to so fast as she was with him only seconds ago. Toni gave her shrug and sat with the prof at a desk once the room was stranded.

"I'd anticipated such a transmutation of you, with your first-hand experience with him," Remus said softly, wishing not to unnerve the girl more so than she already was. "Honestly, I was hoping you'd not have your turn in this lesson, just because I knew He would frighten all of the others too strongly."

"I'm sorry, sir," she murmured, blushing.

"Don't be. You're not to be blamed, dear. It is only rational that He terrifies you most. He does the majority of witches and wizards. Don't you be ashamed of that either. Your circumstances are special and severely sorrowful, therefore, fearing anything other than You-Know-"

"Voldemort," Toni interjected. "I call him by his name. As much as I am scared of him, I force myself to be brave for my mum and dad, so not avoiding his name symbolizes...that I might face him one day with courage, just like my mum did."

"Yes, I knew your mother, sweetheart. Lily Evans. You resemble her to a T, with your eyes, your complexion, the rich auburn color of your hair, and she always kept her hair grown down her back just as you do. Your mother was there for me at a time when no one else was, Antonia. Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way with seeing beauty in others, primarily those who could not see it in themselves. James, your father on the other hand, had a certain flair for mischief. Oh, they opposed one another markedly even in their seventh year's resolution and marriage, yet funnily, their patronuses correlated, as your father's was a stag and your mother's a doe."

'_Does that make mine a fawn?'_

"Do you think I am like my dad, personality-wise?" she asked.

"That could be. I've caught you slapping Mr. Malfoy in the halls," he chuckled. "Your dad had an aptitude for standing up for himself just as he did for trouble making. However, I have caught you in your warmhearted moments too. You're a genial, intelligent and beautiful young lady."

"Wow, thank you, p-professor," she said, so flattered she felt a headache throbbing on. Their closeness had her squeamish as well. "Um, if, eventually, I am faced with Voldemort again...do you think my mum will be with me? Like in a spiritual sense?"

He nodded with a tender smile. "You shouldn't worry yourself with that now, Antonia, but if the time ever does strike, she will be."

…

Well, she loved Ron and Neville as though they were her brothers, but was Remus to go into that category? Albus, Hagrid and Sirius were in her 'fatherly' mental bracket, but after she kissed Remus as she did, there was no way in Hades she'd ever think of the man as a father, but perhaps an ex or a revered mentor?

Maybe her crush on Remus lapsed when he rejected her. The resulting mortification and disappointment could back that up. Antithetically, Draco ebulliently approved her every kiss and touch, and he had since the day they met. Whether it was her dissenting, clouting hands, needy lips, reckless nudity and beyond, he thrived on it, and as of late, Toni wasn't quite withering on his assaults either.

"_She had a way with seeing beauty in others, primarily those who could not see it in themselves."_

So this trait had passed onto her, hadn't it? After over six years, had Toni come around to seeing a facet in Draco he himself did not apprehend harboring somewhere within him? Was that facet something of beauty or marvel? Toni watched him shatter in the bathroom. It was his expiation, and to her, it was beautiful. Of all the bad Draco's father had inculcated in him in his years, he was good in his genuine, underlying and secreted conscience. His moral sense, minimal as it was, had the witch drawn to him after this long, as of her sixteen years and nine months.

Navigating through the mounds of junk, she found Draco fast asleep on the mattress in that same corner, his shoes, socks, shirt and trousers strewn nearby. One could tell he was somnolent passing out, according to his languid posture, his thin bedsheet substituting as a blanket and wrinkled up at his navel. His head turned to her, his lids stared instead of open grays. Toni slunk into the bed with him, thinking to wake him, but that could have pissed him off, and she really wasn't here to do that. When she had slept with him three months earlier, it had been the repose of her life. Unconventional as it was that her liberation was cause to sharing a bed with Draco, it disorientated her none anymore.

In her maturity, she'd learned to find aesthetic qualities in those who did not expose them openly. Remus had lycanthropy, and she loved him regardless, and Neville could be too sensitive, Hermione too erudite, Ron too insouciant, Luna too dreamy, Fay too lively, Ginny too independent, Hagrid too humble, Ab too despondent, Dumbledore too magnanimous and herself too destitute in coping healthily and coming by basic luck. Draco was a bully, but he did not have a choice in leaguing up with the death eaters, and so Toni proffered her solicitude to him, foolish and precipitated as it might have been.

She'd dozed off against his bare chest to his beating heart in her right ear, determined to refine him, as he had no indelible debts to reimburse, and he wouldn't have any unless he killed somebody. Toni would see to him not.

Or so her faith fancied.


	30. Bathwater

**Chapter Thirty  
_Bathwater_**

Waking just the same as she'd fallen asleep, Draco's chest her pillow, she extended her legs out beneath the sheets. In her innocent wondering, she picked their sheet up to take a peek—her inquisitiveness quenched as her eyes feasted on a fabric-clad phallus. Her cheeks burning, she tried to roll from him to make her quiet exit, but his arm pinned her in place.

"Did that fascinate you?" he mumbled into her hair.

"What, your erection? God, do you ever not have one?"

"I sometimes do in the morning, peach. Us blokes do. We get them throughout the night in our sleep. It's natural. We can't help it."

"Oh, well, no, I didn't find that thing very fascinating. Now I have to skedaddle, so let me go."

"Why did you come up here?"

"To sleep with you, obviously."

"How did you know I'd be in here?"

"I just assumed. You're always fidgeting with that cabinet. I figured you prefer crashing up here rather than downstairs in your dorm. You get to think to yourself without the perturbation of others. I bet you get too tired to journey back to the dungeons. It's sort of nice in here too, like having a whole big room to yourself."

"Potter, why are you throwing yourself at me now? What did I do to make you like this?"

"Like what? I thought you wanted me."

"I do, but all year—all these years, you've only given me the cold shoulder. What did I do differently?"

"I told you yesterday. I see that you regret what you've done. You hate that you imperio-ed Madam Rosmerta and cursed Katie. I didn't see it before, but now I do."

"You don't mean your supposition on my 'penance' again?"

"Yeah, that's it, Draco," she said with some tension. "Don't sit here and tell me you took jollily to doing those things and whatever else you did for your mission. You're not downright evil like I thought you were for so long."

"Why don't you fancy Weasley or Longbottom for their infinite good? What's the use in…" He sighed. "You know what you're getting yourself into?"

"Ron?" she guffawed. "Yuck. He's a brother to me, as is Neville. And Hermione loves him. She was practically in tears of joy when he broke up with Lavender. And I'm getting myself into only what I have been for the last six years, Draco. You may be a death eater but you're not killing anybody, especially not Dumbledore."

"What a dreamer," he scoffed. "What makes you so sure, baby? I've made progress, you know. That cabinet over there, it's repaired. Now I just have to pick up the balls to enact as I'm assigned."

"You can try to do what you like. It won't be worthwhile. Dumbledore is not going to die any time soon, nor within the next fifty years, I bet, and you're not going to die in your failure, and neither are your parents. Myrtle's psychic. She predicted some things for me. She won't clue me in on too much, but she let me know you're not going to murder Dumbledore."

Fleetingly, she was spun onto her back—the Slyth to sprawl on top. His long fingers clenching either slender wrist of hers, he said, "Don't you dare give yourself to me on her lies. She's a bleeding ghost; she doesn't know diddly. So don't play this fantasy that I'm bettering myself in your hopeful little head because if you capitulate to me, you're not backing off. Once you're in my possession, you stay."

"_Boundaries_, Draco," she negotiated hotly. "I'm not your property. You can keep me if I can keep you too. And I know Myrtle, okay? You hardly do. She really is quite worldly. She can look straight into people and dictate their muses. It's really cool. A while back she told me that I'm going to end up with either Neville, Remus or you, and since I'm not seeing Neville anymore, and Remus is 'too old' for me, I-"

Starved lips stifled her in her speech, and she didn't demur. Their raw, just woken mouths tasted none too delectable, but what did they care, as they were two horny rivals in need, confined to an eldritch matrix of idolization for each other. In their necking, he wrestled through her inner thighs, so very needy to bore himself inside her virginal slickness and thieve that purity.

Amid their heated tryst, he pulled away to ask, "Is that what she said? My family won't be punished when..._if_ I botch this?"

She nodded staidly. "She sees something big and important in your life in three or so years. She said sometime in early 2000." She wouldn't give me your whole archive, but she won't me either." She silenced on Myrtle's prediction apropos Toni's early motherhood in forethought that he'd shun her away, taking wrong hint.

"Something big's waiting for me in 2000? Hope it won't be your virginity. I need that far sooner, pet."

She scowled. "You're such a pig. If I have sex with you, you're not to tell anyone."

"Is that all for your regulations? It's our business, isn't it? You think I've transferred what we've done thus to my mates?"

"You're ashamed?"

"No, but you were the one to bring up our reputations, remember? And you're right. If people knew that I was shagging and doting softhearted affections to a blood-traitor, reception would be vindictive. You don't gossip our business out, do you?"

"I might have told my friend, Fay, some stuff in the past, but the others are deaf to."

"Well, don't tell anyone anything more. We'll span around like fucking wildfire. Are you going to deliver news of your first blowjob to me?"

"Christ, I won't be doing that for quite a long while, you brazen git! And I can tell anybody whatever I please. Fay told me when she started dating your own friend, Theodore. Why closet romances anyway? Can't we be more adult and less prejudiced?"

"It's our culture, Potter, and with the Dark Lord's approaching domination, the partisan's just going to worsen. Nothing can fix it."

"I'm going to try to."

He shook his head fiercely. "No, no, you're going to _hide_ from him. He's hellbent on taking you into his ownership, you ignoramus."

"He's hellbent on seeing me dead. I might not return to school this fall for that reason. I'm afraid to disclose anything more on my plans thanks to your membership in the death eater's club."

Supporting her head too firmly, he growled, "It wasn't my-"

"_Choice_, I know," she said tersely. "I just can't risk you knowing. What if Voldemort corners you with legilimens?"

"He shouldn't unless he suspects something dubious of me, and he won't. I excel at Occlumency nonetheless. He won't see anything of us."

"I'm not risking it."

"And you are going to risk fucking me?"

"I d-don't know! Certainly not at the moment. You're being an arse this morning."

"Were you considering it?"

"Last night I was...but not now, not yet." She shifted her eyes from his, blushing. "I've never done anything the slightest bit sexual. When we do it, we're probably going to need a towel to lay on...in case I bleed…"

"You will bleed. A lot. I took Parkinson one drunken evening about a year ago, you on my mind the duration. She stained my sheets, so chances are, you will too."

"Um, you didn't...take her, on _this_ mattress, did you?"

"No. This was stood up at the wall right there when I found it last October."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"I enjoyed the sex, not the girl. It'll be enhanced for me with you because I actually feel heavily for you."

Squirming towards the edge of the mattress, she said, "Yes, most certainly not this morning. I have to shower and brush my teeth…" When he sat upright with a sigh, she carried on, "Your birthday's coming up, right?"

"On the fifth."

"Maybe I'll surprise you," she said, rising from the bed.

"Think about what I said, love. You get with me, you don't get out."

"I've been with you this whole time." She frowned as she padded for the exit. "Since you vacuumed me in that day in Flourish and Blotts."

* * *

_Reminisce: Late summer of 1991 - The Snobbish Blond Boy_

"Gon' be back 'ere in less 'an twenty minutes, ah'right, Ton-ya? Jus' got'ter pick sumtin' up from ther Leaky Cauldron. Bring ye back some oy'ce cream, I will."

"Okay, thank you, Hagrid. I'll ask someone if I can't find a book on the list."

A huge hand patted at the considerably shorter girl's back. To his lumber off, she entered the book shop, studying her checklist. Indoors, the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones attached in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of idiosyncratic symbols and a few with clear pages.

Sedulously, she peered all around for any indication as to where she could grab _Magical Drafts &amp; Potions _by Arsenius Jigger. A sign with a tab for schoolbooks arrested her attention. There was a girl and three boys around her age in this section. Her eyes sailed through Jigger's collection to seek out her hunt's worth.

Moving on to obtain _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_, she felt five fingers swipe at her right shoulder charily. She turned to a grinning taller kid with round grayish-blue eyes and slicked blond hair.

"You going to Hogwarts too?" he asked, eyeing her up and down.

"Er, yes, I am. I'm going to be a first year," she said shyly, her face heating.

"Me too. Father's dipping into his bank at Gringotts and mother's up the street looking at wands. I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own...I think I'll harass father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

"Oh...good luck," she chortled.

His simper waned subtly and she could have sworn he minutely edged closer to her.

"Have you got your own broom?"

"...Yes, most people do, I think," she said with a lifted brow. "And I've had to put it to much use over the years. My aunt and uncle have me do lots of chores around the house, you see," she smiled sheepishly.

"Do they? We have an elf for that. He does the chores and cooking and whatnot. So how long have you been riding?"

"Er, I've never ridden a horse before…"

"Not a horse," he scoffed. "A broom."

"Oh, um, I haven't."

"Well, I'm trying out for Quidditch next year. Father says it'll be a crime if I'm not selected to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you'll be in yet?"

'_House?'_

"No."

"No one really knows till they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin 'cause all of our family have been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff. I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

'_It does sound kind of cloying...'_

"Maybe," she shrugged.

"What books do you still need. I'll pick up mine with you."

"Magical Drafts and Potions is there," she said, her index finger directed to the bookshelf. "I suppose all the rest are in this area too."

"Where're your parents?" he asked as they walked alongside the shelves.

She gasped lightly to herself, thinking back to what Hagrid told her just the night last. "They were murdered when I was a little over a year old," she mumbled.

"Shit, sorry about that. So you were raised by your aunt and uncle?"

"Yes…"

'_Dudder's too, with his tyranny...'_

"It's just my parents and me at my manor. Father's a governor for Hogwarts' school board. I don't have any siblings."

"Any pets?"

"An eagle owl, used mainly for conveyance. He's of little more use than that."

"What about your elf? Do you think of him as a brother?"

"Pfft, he's walking tripe."

A tap went heard from the glass window nearby. Both looked over to see Hagrid sporting a toothy grin, two ice cream cones held up.

"Blimey! What a beast!" he exclaimed.

"That's Hagrid. He's the gamekeeper of Hogwarts as a matter of fact," she noted.

"Yeah, he's like a barbarous servant. I've heard of him. Why's he gawking at us like that?"

"He's my tour guide, and he's not barbarous. He's pretty nice. Don't judge a book by its cover."

"Word has it he lives in this hut on the school grounds and is a real sot. He tries to do magic when he's at his drunkest and sets his mattress aflame. Also defecates in buckets and wipes with tree bark."

"Oh my...well, that could just be a rumor."

"Could be, but I have my rightful doubts. Why aren't your aunt and uncle escorting you?"

"They're very uninterested muggles," she sighed.

"Your parents...they were like us, right?"

"You mean witch and wizard? Yes."

"They should not even let the other sort into the school in my opinion. They're just not the same...They've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them never even hear of Hogwarts until they get their acceptance letter," he tsked. "They should really keep it in the old Wizarding families."

"My mum was muggle-born. Hagrid said she was a very bright witch. She aced in school. I have some old photographs of her at my house. She was really gorgeous. I have her red hair and greenish eyes. My dad wore glasses, but I guess I inherited mum's good eyesight too."

He appeared slightly bothered as his lips had thinned and his eyes had narrowed. "Was your father...like that too?"

Feeling denigrated, she answered, "I don't know if he was as sharp, but he was pureblooded, Hagrid says."

"That makes you half-blooded. It'll suffice, I guess."

"What will suffice?"

The half-giant's rapping of the window intensified then. "YER OY'CE CREAM'S A MELTIN'! YE 'BOUT READY?" he shouted from outside.

The blond snorted in laughter while Toni hued crimson. "I'll see you later," she said, rushing off to pay and jet.

"Oi, what's your name?!"

.

.

.

In the dawn proceeding Snape's interruption amid snog of House rivals, Ron and the majority of his House noticed seventy points eaten from their stats. The reason would remain a mystery unto the earth's demise, because Severus and Draco both respected the girl that much.

Another day, lazed on the library's second floor by a pair of broadened sunset shone-through windowpanes, Toni and Fay spoke on blood and the general blemishes in diversity of the Wizarding world and how it was affecting their lifestyles. Half-blooded, Gryffindor blood-traitorous Fay had been dating the pureblooded, Slytherin semi-bigot in quietude. Somehow, both wanted one another, just as somehow, Toni wanted Draco and vice versa.

"When Hagrid gave me the weird news of who I really am, I only thought the best of it," Toni said. "From then on, I was looking forward to living here in this world, free of Vernon and Petunia's chilly supervision. God, I was so amazed, Fay. Hearing about it at eleven, I was skeptical, and it was funny and odd because Vernon had always forbid Dudley and I from saying the word 'magic' alone. He scolded us that he was just 'stamping out' that balderdash. He spoke of it like it was a drug or a poison or a sin. Petunia, she's always gone with whatever rules her 'normal' hubby set. The first ten years of my life were a joke. In my cabinet, grounded for twenty hours a day, I dreamed about a world like this, but without all the racial hate and premature death. Hagrid told me about mum and dad's murder. Growing up, Vernon spat lie after lie to their death's cause," she scoffed. "The car crash, the terrorist ambush at a plaza, the bout of synchronous measles...When Hagrid bulldozed in, one of the first messages he conveyed was on Voldemort, or as he put him, You-Know-Who, having hit them with the killing curse. I believed Hagrid, but I never did either of my guardians."

"Well, they did feed you multiple tales...Your common sense kicked in there," Fay put.

Toni laughed. "Common sense...I don't have enough of that….sometimes."

"Because you might sleep with Draco…?"

"I've slept with him twice, and I shall say neither occasions were bad in the least. If anything, it put me at peace. I was warmer and I felt close to him, literally and subjectively. In a millennium I'd have never imagined I'd be with Draco, and now I want to be."

"...Because Myrtle told you he's not going to kill the headmaster and you saw his penance, alluding to his weeping in the bathroom?"

"Pretty much, but subconsciously, I think I've always been attracted to him. His hounding me from the beginning and his consultations of how much he glorifies me...It's deranged, but I think that assembled on what I feel for him now. He kind of trapped me, and damn me, I like it."

"Like how you liked Remus?"

"No, that was very different. That was much just a crush...I think, and I think I'll always be perplexed about that, just like I am this."

"I'm confused myself. He's bullied you countlessly since we were eleven. He busted your nose just last fall, and now…"

"Now he is becoming an amended man."

"Is that what Myrtle said?"

"It's what I'm saying. It's what I'm seeing. We've been at this war for years and now we're unifying, corny as that sounds. It's happening."

"And if he sucks you into this, and you want to get out, how are you going to do that? He's dangerous, even if he is trying to change his dastardly ways."

"Oh, what about your boyfriend, Teddy? You know his father's a Death Eater."

"All the Slytherins' fathers are Death Eaters."

"Is he one? Theo?"

"No, and before you ask, yes, I have seen his left forearm. He's not so biased like all his friends. He agrees that this whole war against muggle-born witches and wizards is rubbish."

"Does he? Or is he just saying that to get into your bloomers?"

"Bloomers!" Fay guffawed, doubling over the table. "You sound like my grandmother!"

"Answer me," Toni said dignifiedly.

"I dunno, maybe. I'm falling for him, so we're going to copulate at some point anyhow. Just as you're planning to with Draco on his birthday."

"Make sure he's got his act in line first. You don't want your heart broken if hell finds its way into your relationship."

"Touché, Ant. Just give yourself that advice when the time pops up."

"Well, if there's one ethical thing to come out of this, it's we're living examples of Slytherin and Gryffindor integration. No one else here had one parent in Slytherin and the other in Gryffindor. We're starting this campaign here. We're private now, but it could publicize in time."

"Possibly. Theo is affirmative that Blaise Zabini fancies Ginny. Pansy accused him of it, and he took stern offense, making it look as if he does like her."

"I'll be damned. This is advancing into somewhat of a trend...Well, she is a pretty little thing, but Blaise is just as brashly opinionated of blood status as Draco and all the Slytherins."

"That's what he defended according to Theo. I bet he's just ashamed. Draco told me he's ashamed to feel how he does for me, which is why he orders that we keep our affair confidential."

"You must feel awkward about it too. You don't tell Hermione or Ron you've kissed him and...the extraneous that you've told me only."

"I've known them both from the beginning. The three of us have putted our triad resentment towards Draco, so if I told them now, it would be far too much to explain, and they still wouldn't understand anyway."

"Ant, are you flattered by Draco's lordship over you?"

"He has no lordship over me, even if he thinks so. I am turned on when he shoves me against walls, depending on our situation...God, he maddens me, but there's something in that arseholery. Sometimes, even in the past, he frustrated me so horribly that…"

'_I'd feel my heartbeat in my privates.' _

"I'd be moments from screwing him like a dog in heat. He's always done these fiendish and truculent things to me. He's the only person who's ever been able to rack such revolt in me...Feelings I can't even perceive fully. He's incredible."

"He may be, but is he safe to be with? You two go together as sugar does cumin."

"Spicy-sweet? I don't mind that. Beats the overt saccharine Neville and I were."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you?" she said, standing and hanging the strap of her bookbag onto her shoulder. "I'm going to town to buy some lingerie. You coming?"

"W-what—you're serious?"

"Yup. Just for kicks. I don't have a single thong to my name. I want to impress before I remove the article and do the dirty."

Fay turned morose and averted her sights, but came to shrug and go along. They dropped their satchels off in their dorms and collected their galleons for Gladrags in hopes they stocked sultry wear. The shop itself had everything from tint altering sweaters to novelty socks that screamed when they got too smelly. Either virgin scoured through rackful after rackful unto reaching a nook towards the back of the store where the seductive undergarments were available. Toni pranced to the skimpiest indigo chemise that caught her eye. Mildly farouche, Fay stayed put as the redhead receded into a dressing room with a rainbow of dresses.

Toni danced before her space's mirror in her initial pick. The blue garb stopped an inch or two below her buttocks as the upper portion's brasserie accentuated her bust; the outfit as a whole was quite adhered to her body with chic and ensnaring design. Draco sprung a hard-on seeing her in turtlenecks; what this would do to him had her giggling bashfully to meditate on. Six months ago she was opt to don scantily for her unrequited yearning for the werewolf. It was zany, her sequencing in holding sexual intrigue for this bloke and that bloke, however short her range of crushes were throughout the years. Oliver Wood, Remus, and Draco qualified under this range, Wood for her years one and two, Lupin from third year to the medial of her sixth year and Malfoy as of that last February, she assumed, following her foolhardy striptease.

Her sensual reflection was assigned for erotic presentation come the fifth of June. With the graphic mental image of the Slyth unhooking and sliding this piece down her legs commenced a tingling in her sex. She chastised the elicit, just as she did one day in her fourth year when Draco sat next to her in charms and explicitly whispered the art of cunnilingus in her ear. In that hour's murmured tale, her inner folds were throbbing and moistening just as now, as though she'd pined for him then in some quandary and repressed configuration. The blond promised her he'd reform her as his lesser when they were eleven and he kept at his oath all the voyage of six years past. Was her falling for him reformation? She didn't like to think so, but his succession in burglarizing her heart had her peeved because she didn't really know what to do with it, but endow him her cherry, or let it pent inside her for years as she did for Remus.

"Fucking prat," she murmured, analyzing her ample bosom and faintly chafing inner thighs the wizard drooled upon gazing.

The day her romantic feelings clicked onto Draco, her immediate impression was he'd spiked her drink with amortentia someway during one of the mealtimes, but she disregarded the idea on three provings: Dumbledore's lecture of Voldemort's conception via amortentia, hence the implanting of fake love and worship of its brewer, his muggle father the casualty of the amor fluid in the long run; Ron's mawkish exemplar administered from Lavender in early March and Hector Dagworth-Granger's notation, "_Powerful infatuations can be induced by the skillful potioneer, but never yet has anyone managed to create the truly unbreakable, eternal, unconditional attachment that alone can be called Love_."

Bringing her sobriety and lack of maudlin tendencies into thought, she denied accidental consumption altogether. She was left with the bona fide; her feelings had been brought by nature. His penance, at least what she classified of it was auxiliary in justification, if there was even anything to justify. There might not have been. This was just a boy and girl as mortal enemies maturing to clash by means of romance and prospectively breathtaking sex.

Trying on five more, she chose to buy the indigo and black sets, a package of thongs included. Fay picked a standard camisole as she'd laughed at the selection of nipple-less bras and panties with slits down the middle. Differently, the gallery had Toni enticed, but she was overly demure yet, and the garbs didn't quite meet her style nevertheless.

* * *

_Reminisce: Winter of 1995 - Anthony Goldstein_

"Big smiles! Lose yourself in euphoria, everyone! You must remember yourself at your happiest for a corporeal full-body patronus to be conjured! Incorporeals will do for a number of enemies, but if you really want an effect—Whoa! Lovely rabbit, Luna!" Dumbledore's Army and their critters of the soul had been mobbing the Room of Requirement. Toni, Ron and Hermione trooped about, all lecturing Neville or Seamus or Susan or Cho. "Recall incorporeals do not resemble any living creature and have few distinguishing characteristics. They will reveal as a vapory smoke without sharp definition, and they won't be fully-fledged. Corporeals are key in repelling dementors and lethifolds. They will take the shape of a bright white, translucent animal. Yours will reflect your personality. They are prone to alter if the castor undergoes an emotional upheaval, like a traumatic experience or falling in lo—oh! Hehe, pardon me, Anthony."

The cropped blond smirked, replying, "So, what's your patronus?"

"A goose," she said. "A rather plump and sassy goose. What's yours?"

"I'm still working at it."

"Well, hop to it. Make haste."

"Wait, Antonia," he said, catching her arm as she took a step ahead. "I, uh, I was wondering if I could speak with you after this session, in here, just us two."

"...Yeah, that'll be ducky."

"Ducky," he chuckled. "You have an innovative way with words. It's cute."

"Is it? Thanks," she smiled back. "Now let's see that animal."

…

Forty-five minutes later, after the final gang of students had gone, Tony led Toni to a bench against the wall at the right of the room, where a vine of mistletoe was dangling above. Toni gritted her teeth apprehensively, as no sexual attraction was existent for this Ravenclaw, and it seemed he was cajoling her into a zone of inexorable snog.

"How did you like my grizzly bear? Was he corporeal enough?" Anthony asked flirtatiously, prompting Toni to scoot from him, Remus coating her mind for the time being.

"Yeah, he was awesome, Anthony. I'd say you're well-prepped. Er, so what was it you wanted to speak with me about?"

The blond Raven smiled complacently and his hand found its place over hers. She was too urbane to withdraw, and she loathed she was. "Are you dating anyone?"

'_Only in my mind...'_

"...No."

"Neither am I. How would you like to meet me in Madam Puddifoot's tomorrow, say noon?"

'_No.'_

"...Okay. Noon it is."

She nodded him her goodbye, but when she tried to stand, her wrist had been taken.

"Look up. See what we're under?"

An imaginary knife had cut into her chest. It was her least favorite plant next to poison ivy and mandrakes. Now, sitting here with a boy whom she knew so minimal, she disliked the vegetative mesh of allegory that galvanized meeting one's lips with another's more so.

"It looks like some weeding. Had we not been using this room for productivity, I'd ask Filch to clear it out."

"But it's mistletoe, Antonia," Anthony chortled. "Close your eyes and lean in."

"Can't! I'm afraid I have a cold sore inside my bottom lip," she said bluntly, rising. "Happy Christmas to you, Goldstein. Until we meet next."

"Actually, I'm Jewish, so my family doesn't do Christmas, but eight days of Hanukkah," he insinuated. "And if you really didn't want to kiss me all you had to do was tell me so. The cold sore excuse is overused, red."

Flushing ruby, she retook her seat and mumbled an apology. Without a second thought, she pressed her lips to his, letting him have hers for approximately thirty seconds before she took flight, not bothering to see him the day next afternoon, nor any afterward. She'd engrossed her introspection with why she wished for Draco to hare in and nix that one kiss. She did applaud that aspect of him, the jealousy.

.

.

.

The fifth of June landed on a Thursday, and if Toni was to mingle bodies with her adversary-outcome-boyfriend, she'd rather it not be on a school night. She'd seen him that morning in potions, when she stared her greens to his grays, for him to return the look. This went on for the hour.

After classes, she spent seventy minutes in the library searching for a modern guide on contraception in the Wizarding world. She preferred the usage of some spell or potion to going out and purchasing _Yert Cuno's Charmed Sheaths _or _Kiramira's Enchanted Pill: A Fetal Preventative_. Seeing it too awkward to ask Madam Pince if there were such books in her cluster, she retired to her common room in assumption that Draco would be handy with something other than the notorious pull-out method that she wouldn't dare chance, even if Myrtle did claim her first baby wouldn't be conceived for at least several more years. Who was she to trust all the kooky little spirit said after all.

She was in the prefects' bathroom by nine o'clock that evening, her bathrobe pooled on the floor by itself. Myrtle was elsewhere, but Toni hoped she'd float around soon as she had loads to vent. Toni was without the presence of anybody or anyentity sixteen minutes, and come the seventeenth, the witch laid against the tub's lining, on the edge of slumber, as the door noiselessly opened and closed within four seconds, her notice to it gained not.

However, the tiny echo of a pants' zipper whooshing apart did alert her, as did the clinking of a belt's buckle to the floor nearby. Toni swirled with wide eyes to identify a stripping Draco in the process of unbuttoning his shirt. Unprepared for this, her flesh burned and her mouth and throat were of a desert's texture.

"...What...what are you doing, Draco?"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" he scoffed, his boxers sliding down his knees. "I'm taking a bath."

Virgin eyes barred themselves to six inches of his aloft, dark and pinkened penis circled with blond hairs, undergird with darker orbs that hung in ribald prepossession. In her mesmerization, she breathed, "No, not - not here...not now."

"We don't have to," he snickered, sticking a foot into the water. "We can just talk."

"How did you know I'd be in here?"

"I just assumed. You're always soaking in here," he answered, completing the coincidental repentance of their conversation of days before in the RoR.

"How do you know the password? It changes every month."

"Montague," he said, splashing his way over to her.

"Who?"

"Captain of my House's Quidditch team." He garnered her in his arms and peppered her face with his cravings lips. "You're so warm. Do you have a fever?"

"No, um, I'm a bit embarrassed."

"About seeing my dick?"

"Well, y-yes," she sputtered uncomfortably. "We need to certify what we're to use for...you not impregnating me."

"I bought you those girl pills. They're in my wardrobe. I can get them now if-"

"No, it's fine! I don't want to do that tonight."

"It'd make a great gift, though."

"I know it would for you," she murmured, kissing his upper lip. "I do have a present for you in my dorm. I'll give it to you tomorrow."

"Touch me," he said abruptly, closing her against the lining. "Do it. I want you to jerk me off."

"Jesus," she gasped, his bold wording taking her aback. "I - I doubt I'd be very good at that."

"I don't expect you to be, princess," he sneered, kneading her breasts. "As boyfriend and girlfriend, we're going to be feeling each other often, aren't we?"

Breathing with constriction, she traced a shaking hand down his abdomen, through the pubic tuffet and on the erect protuberance. He grunted once her skinny fingers twined its base, and he thrust and squeezed either tit forcibly when her wily hand gyrated him, inexpertly, but sufficiently. He chaffed her with growls of how much of a slut she was while palpating her intimately, assaulting her nipples, backside and privates in a pattern. Inserting his thumb, index and middle fingers into her, she yipped, hit with a soaring degree of pleasure. Drinking in her stimulation with mirrored pleasure, those fingers sank inside her completely, plucking and rotating her to senselessness. Her nails scraped at his back as she could barely stand the phenomenal gesture. Although it was a petty step of foreplay, it enervated her to vexing proportion.

"P-p-please, I - I can't, I can't...oh, please stop!"

"No," he snapped. "Look at you, you're a moaning, shuddering wreck. All our bickering bullshit's finally come to this, baby, at long fucking last. I'm going to ride you numb. You're cumming and I've only _fondled_ you," he chuckled tauntingly. "I guess it's right what they say about redheaded women."

"What is that?"

"Word has it you're more genetically predisposed to pain and sensitivity. Read it somewhere."

"Is that why Ron had quite a fuss when he hurt his calf last week?" she mused with a smile.

Draco's lips thinned. "Don't kill my boner with mentionings of the weasel," he grumbled.

"Oh, is my weasel friend a turn-off?" she laughed.

"Say it again, won't you?" he muttered.

"Ronald Bilius Weas—GOD!"

His entire right fist dug into her, the stretching inordinate. His index finger raking, she shrieked and stiffened up, stammering for him to relent. He did, with the price of an ultimatum.

Standing, he leered down at her eyes which were fixed on the swollen organ before her. "You know what to do."

"I don't think so," she scoffed with a light-head. "I'm not putting that ugly thing in my mouth."

"Does it scare you?" he mocked.

"I don't know where its been," she reasoned, evening her eyes with his.

"It hasn't been anywhere _special_ in a while, a while enough."

"It'd rock your world if I did it, wouldn't it?" she said. "After all the torture you've put me through in all the time we've known us, this would confound you, just like it would make you tremble."

"Yes," he muttered, his teeth bared. "And you wouldn't dream of doing it, you conservative temptress."

She swam out a short ways. "I will if you catch me."

Leaping for her, he plunged them both underwater. She stuck her head ashore laughing heartily, but he scowled and pushed her to the edge nearest, ramming his mouth to hers and squirming between her soft thighs. Seizing the other for dear life, their mouths amalgamated like they were so in love and in need it was ailing them. Grazing her neck with butterfly kisses, he brushed the tip of his groin against her folds. In his sexual frustration, he dipped in faintly, dead set on sinking in entirely, regardless of her last-minute reluctance, yet even he in his nauseatingly immense arousal halted when a sharp cluck sounded from the bathroom's entrance. Either sixth year whipped their heads in the direction to spot Peeves donning a toothy simper and sniggering wheezily.

"Fuck!" Draco hissed, in all appropriateness.

"BOY AND GIRL HAVING SOME FUN, BUT I THINK I WILL BE THE ONE, UPON INFORMING CARETAKER FILCH OF THE INDISCRETIONS AND WATCHING YOUR FACES IN HIS OFFICE-HELD CONFESSIONS, AS HANKY PANKY SHALL HAVE HIM MOST CRANKY!"

The poltergeist vanished as swiftly as he'd appeared, and Toni was left catatonic. Draco hoisted her out of the tub and flung her bathrobe at her while he boogied to obtain his own. They hadn't bothered draining the water, for Filch must have been on his giddy way with his feline accomplice.

"Faster, Potter!" Draco panted as they sprinted the cool, airy corridor for the stairs.

"We're sopping! I could slip at any mom—hell!"

Her bum crashed to the ground hard, the wind whacked from her. He yanked her up harshly and sped without slowing until they reached the sixth flight. They jogged onto the seventh floor, aching and livid. The stopped in the space where their hideout was, and taking her hand, Draco told her to concentrate, however challenging that would be given the incident.

"He's never done that before with me," Toni breathed, wobbling to their mattress. "It's just Myrtle in there, usually."

"You don't wager he'll get in here?" Draco said.

"Dunno, God, I'm worn." She dabbed at her hair with her robe before folding it and using it as a pillow. "I feel like I'm punished somehow for everything I do."

"Why do you think that is?" he asked, crawling beneath the sheets beside her.

"I can be so scatterbrained, you know, so mercurial and vapid. What if Peeves caught us because we aren't meant to be together or do things people who are together sexually do."

"Are we weird in your perception?"

"Very."

"Is that problematic?"

"It could be, Draco. In all honesty."

"You couldn't be more correct, pet, but better a faulty relationship than a boring and mundane one, eh?"

"Maybe...I have to go. There's no way in hell I'm walking out of here in the morning in my bathrobe in front of everybody."

"You did tonight," he reasoned.

"It's late. No one is really out at this hour. We shouldn't even be."

"As confirmed by the blasted poltergeist," he nodded. "But you're not to leave until you live up to your promise. I caught you."

"I wasn't serious," she defended, reddening.

"Oh, right, you never are," he tsked in annoyance.

"...I can be." Sitting on her knees, she uncovered his still partially risen crotch and stunned him and herself by lowering her head to peck the bloated crown just once and straighten back upright before his hands could still her and drive it all in.

"I - I have to leave. I'll be back tomorrow night," she mumbled, kissing his cheek.

"Bleeding flake," he groaned as she pulled her robe on and dismissed herself.

Dressed in a nightie in her own bed, she felt out of place, like a funky puzzle piece trying to fit where it didn't belong. That had been the utmost provocative dusk of her years; her salty lips only iced the cake. Had she not her susceptible gag reflex to worry about, she might have taken him down the hatch, icky and whorish as such would have previously made her. He was skilled in inducing sensations she couldn't depict, but experience with rapture and mystification. He did these things to her, these things that boosted her inconstant deportment, yet she hankered for it to the extent of necking him in return, flaunting her nudity in his midst and the latest, taunting him with penile smooches.

Oh, how she did have fun, though. Peeves' invasion was almost ok she found so much delight in the carefree time she had with her boyfriend. That French lingerie would be on and off that next night, she was positive.


	31. To Pillage a Witch's Floret

**Chapter Thirty-One  
**_**To Pillage a Witch's Floret**_

_Reminisce: Summer of 1994 - The Quidditch World Cup_

The Portkey rollercoaster-esque whorl left Toni muzzy and ready to upchuck as she'd made it to the summit of a hill with the Weasleys and Amos and Cedric Diggory. Her and Ginny helped the other up as their sights spun like windmills.

"Downhill, we go!" announced Mr. Weasley.

"I feel kinda drunk," Toni said to Gin as she hobbled alongside the crew. "We went to a carnival on Dudley's seventh birthday, and he wanted to go on a ride where you had to be at least five feet tall for safety measures, I guess, but if you weren't of five feet, you could ride with a 'buddy', so Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia forced me to join Dudders, and I really didn't want to because we'd all just eaten frankfurters. I got sick midair, and some, eh, residue splattered Dudders' shirt. Had to sit out in the hot car the rest of the afternoon and I wasn't allowed dinner that evening."

"Blimey, Anne. I got the gist of your relatives' wrath when we…" the ginger giggled, "blasted your fireplace to pieces. Your uncle was so purple I was scared he was going to burst right there."

"What the devil?! Soot! There's soot all about the bleeding room, Petunia!" Toni reenacted with a snorting laugh. "And the look on Dudders' face when Fred and George gave him the Ton-Tongue candies…" her chuckle simmered. "Although it was a tad terrifying when he started choking…"

Two wearisome and evidently grumpy middle aged wizards shook hands with Mr. Weasley at the bottom of the hill on flat land. Either were dressed in silly muggle accessories, one in a tweed suit and thigh-high galoshes and one in a kilt and poncho.

The man who went by Basil greeted Arthur and directed all the group to the field beyond, him and the Weasleys told to reach the first field and the Diggorys, the second. Onward a quarter of a mile through the deserted moor, Mr. Weasley met the site's manager, Mr. Roberts, an actual muggle, past the cottages entranceway. Mr. Roberts had been the sole muggle for acres.

Arthur and the manager conversed on their booked campsite, and when the manager asked if he'd be paying upfront, Arthur nervously turned to Toni with his wad of muggle currency for assistance in financial counting.

"This is...a five, right? Oh, yes, I see it, but this one…I can't quite…"

"It's a twenty," she answered.

"You foreigners?" Mr. Roberts asked with scrutiny. "Everybody who's come through here today's had trouble with money. Two tried to pay me with gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."

"Hmph, that's curious…" Arthur mumbled.

"Never been this crowded. Hundreds of pre-bookings. Folks generally just turn up. Plenty of foreigners today, though, and not just that, but weirdos. Saw somebody wandering round in a poncho and kilt. Suppose there's a rally or a party going on. Everyone seems to know one another."

Suddenly, a wizard in plus-fours had apparated alongside Mr. Roberts, thereby, was treated obliviation. Arthur was handed his change and a map of the campsite and their assigned location. Mr. Barty Crouch had explained how he'd had to use the spell on the muggle roughly a dozen times that day already, while his colleague, Mr. Ludo Bagman, was showing off their heritage loudly and proudly as if it were no big pother.

The tents ahead were attached with chimneys, bell-pulls or weather-vanes, as the magical guests had given their shots at making their rented shelters appear muggle-like. At the edge of the wood atop the pasture laid a clear space with a petite sign hammered into the ground that read: Weezly.

"Couldn't have a better spot," Arthur smiled. "The pitch is just opposite the wood there, so we're as close as we could be. Now, no magic, strictly speaking, not while we're out in these numbers on muggle land. We'll be erecting these tents by hand! Shouldn't be too tricky…" He faced Toni. "Antonia, where do you reckon we should start?"

She shrugged awkwardly, as the Dursleys had not ever taken her out camping, not that they themselves had done such either, as Petunia had despised the outdoors and Dudley's loss of sleeping on a mattress would have had him throwing a major fit.

They all planted the pegs and poles where they judged formal and Arthur had such a hoot that his malleting resulted them in two shabby-stood drapings. Toni was flummoxed as ten people in total would be compact, but ducking inside, she was amazed, surrounded by what copied an old fashioned, three-roomed flat, bonused with a kitchenette and loo. The furnishings were posited as Mrs. Figg's abode, Toni recognized, with the crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and the aroma of feline.

Arthur scolded Ron that a faucet couldn't be magicked up because muggles took to the technique of either harboring brought liquid in canisters or brimming what they needed from a source of their outdoor environment. Toni, Hermione and Ron were sent to collect water, and in their excursion they passed many ordinary wizarding families hocus pocus-ing like they should not have been. The Ministry officials struggled to make all the sorcery less conspicuous. Encountering the section congested with Ireland supporters, the gang saw Seamus and Dean, and into the Bulgarian section, every tents had posters hung picturing a square-headed young man with thick, black eyebrows. Written above the bloke's head was: Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Team Seeker.

"An artist, Krum is," sighed Ron. "Gives his team glory they wouldn't hold without him."

…

Lunch was served outside the tent. Came along Ludo Bagman, the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, so he could ask Arthur if he was up for gambling who'd win the upcoming match. The twins interjected, betting thirty-seven galleons that Ireland would win, but Krum would capture the Snitch. Ludo accepted, however large the speculation he voiced that bet to be. In the meantime, Arthur asked him about the missing witch in his department, Bertha Jorkins, to which Ludo returned his low frets on the forgetful old coot.

Subsequently, a severe-miened elderly wizard, Barty Crouch, met them. As his employee at the Ministry, Percy was a willing servant, going as far as to offer the scary boss a cup of tea, only to hear his name given as "Weatherby" in turn.

With Ludo and Barty chatting on a mysterious event that was anticipated after the World Cup, Toni led Ron and Hermione out to the merchandising station to buy Omnioculars, for they'd promise a very worthy viewing.

That evening, Mr. Weasley headed the bunch through the forest next to the campground to reach the stadium that seated one hundred thousand people. As they walked up to the top box where they had special reserved seats, compliments of Ludo, Toni saw a house-elf whom she initially thought was Dobby, seated alone at the left end of a row. She hurried to instead meet a female elf with longer and slightly thicker eyelashes, bigger, brown almond-shaped eyes and was dressed in a tea-towel adjusted like a toga.

"Oh, hullo, dear," Toni greeted. "I mistook you for my friend, Dobby."

"Dobby?" the elf squeaked. "Yous know Dobby? Dobby and I's very close."

"Swell!" the redhead exclaimed, taking a seat parallel to her. "What's your name, love?"

"I's Winky, ma'am, of the Crouch residence." She gasped, eyeing the scar along the witches hairline. "You's Antonia Potter?!"

"How did you—oh! I forget my lightning bolt's even there sometimes, haha. Yes, I am, Winky. Lovely to meet you."

"Dobby speaks of you lots, ma'am! He adores you as a queen."

"Such a sweetie," Toni grinned. "How's he doing?"

The elf frowned and zipped her eyes to her lap. "Winky ain't so sure you did Dobby a favor. He's asking for income. Freedom's polluting his mind."

"Why can't he be paid?" Toni inquired, apparently startling the little elf.

"House-elves is not paid, miss! No, no, no, I tells Dobby. Go find yourself a nice family and settle down, I tells him, but he persists. He acts like some human man with his coin-begging! He goes racketing round starting hijinks and showing up at the Department for the Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures like some common goblin!"

"Boy, he's sure stepped up his game since I last saw him," Toni beamed. "I must admit I'm proud of him, Winky. Rioting for what he rightfully deserves. He's just as much man as any bloke here."

"You's misunderstood, Antonia Potter," the eld said sadly. "Us House-elves is servants. We serve our masters good and faithfully. Winky wishes she were in master's tent, but she is ordered up here at this great height," she gulped. "I's not like heights, but my master ordered me up here to save him a seat. He is very busy."

"The Crouches, they don't...neglect you, do they, Winky?" Toni asked carefully.

Winky looked back and forth with immense caution, is if to ensure her masters were outside of their proximity. "Mr. Barty Crouch is austere, and Mrs. Crouch, she was generous when she lived home with us...but Mr. Barty Crouch Junior…," Tears layered her eyes.

"It's okay, love, you can confide in me," Toni whispered tensely, leaning in. "What does Barty Junior do?"

"Winky is a good, _good_, elf," she whimpered. "Winky keeps what Master Bart does and says to his good elf secret. She speaks not of it, never, as she has promised, lest she is to be caned and banished from the Crouch residence."

"Crap, not this," Toni sighed, recollecting Dobby's substantial loyalty to his abusers. "I swear I won't pass what you tell me around. Not unless it's so serious I have to report it."

"I's mustn't! He don't neglect me so bad anyhow. Just when he's had a stressed day, and I's good! I's get him to a happier mood."

Toni gaped somewhat, a nauseating hunch coiling. "Winky...he doesn't...sexually abuse you?"

The elf's grayish skin blanched and her gaze was magnetized to the enormous, oval pitch ahead. Ron had called out to Toni that moment. She hastily told the elf to write her and send the letters to Hogwarts. If her, Hermione and Ginny could get their idea, S.P.E.W., promoted and active, sanctuary could be sought for the persecuted elf.

"That's Winky," Toni informed Ron. "I thought she was Dobby from afar. She's pals with him, though." Glowering, she mumbled, "She's suffering maltreatment of some sort in her home. I'm horrified Mr. Crouch's son is-"

"Ron! Antonia! Hustle up here!" hollered Arthur from the level upwards.

"I wouldn't bother panicking, Toni," Ron said as they caught up with the rest. "I heard Mr. Crouch's son is locked up in Azkaban for turning out a death eater."

"But...are you-"

They massed in with the other Weasleys on a platform four flights below the Minister's Box. Beside the twins, Percy, and Ginny, Arthur was shouting down at someone not far lower. Squeezing through Hermione and Charlie, she stood at Fred's side and checked out the ruckus to be Lucius Malfoy, his presumable wife, and her odious nemesis, Draco.

"Drat," she muttered, when her classmate's grays fastened aboard her greens. She gulped as a smarmy smirk painted his pointed face.

"My sellings are not of your concern, Lucius," Arthur spat down at the Hogwarts Governor hotly. "Yet, I shall enlighten you that we've been invited to the Top Box by Ludo," he simpered. "_On the house_."

"Yeah! We didn't even have to pay or donate a measly sickle!" George roared valiantly, proceeding to literally spit a loogie. To his lucky aim, it splattered onto Lucius' pointy nose.

"Spot-on!" the twins chanted concomitantly, rousing cackles in everyone about, including Arthur, as shown through his chuckled scold. Toni bent, guffawing so forcefully she was afraid she'd pee her trousers.

"Barbarians!" Mrs. Malfoy screeched, dabbing at her husband's gobbed gift with her handkerchief.

Momentarily, Toni noticed Draco was out of sight, missing from either of his parent's sides. Apprehensively, she shuffled back and got behind Ron, crossing her fingers either dad's argument would perish posthaste. Nonetheless, her crossed fingers were clinched by a hand. At her rear stood the abhorred, whether it was Flint, by long-time-no-see, hapless kismet, or Draco. To her regardless dread, the blond fourth year-to-be dragged her towards the stairs beyond.

"What are you—oi! I'm with _them_!" she snapped, trying to jerk her wrist to herself.

"No, you're with me," Draco corrected smugly, pulling her upstairs and taking her in the wrong direction through a separate row of seats.

"The Minister's Box is up there, you sodding halfwit!"

"We're not going up there, you disoriented bint," he said, plopping into an end seat in a virtually secluded section, bringing her with him in the joined chair. "We're sitting here."

"This is preposterous, Malfoy! I'm not your leashed dog! I'm not going to let you govern me this year!"

"You said that last year, and the year before," he derided. "I'd rather you think of this as a date." His mitt slithered around her middle, and a buss nipped her head quick and hard.

She reacted violently, winding to nearly squirm herself into the other empty chair. "Don't you touch me with your hands or mouth! This isn't a date! We've just seen each other by happenstance! Your dad quarreled with Mr. Weasley and I saw you and you saw me. There's nothing more to that. Wouldn't you prefer a first class seat up there anyway?"

"No, I really couldn't resist such an opportunity, Potter, to have you alone." He withdrew his wand and held it in front of her eyes. "Behave, or I'll hex you to seizures. You're not armed, and that's to my advantage."

"It won't be to your advantage come September once I am wanded," she bit. "I didn't think I'd be needing it today, but had I known you would ravage my fun out with my friends-"

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO THE FINAL OF THE FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SECOND QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!"

"That was Bagman," Draco muttered gleefully, through the cheering spectators. "Now you have to stay put."

"Your father's going to be upset with you," she said. "He must've paid forth thousands to get himself, your mum, and _you_ in that quality box."

"What are those?" he asked, grabbing at her Omnioculars, wringing her neck while.

"_My_ expensive, high caliber Omnioculars. They can replay action, slow down everything, and they flash play-by-play breakdowns. Thought they are neat so I spent a fortune buying Ron and 'Mione a pair too."

"Well, it appears I'll be watching the match with quality after all," he snickered. "C'mon. Give them up."

"Hell, no!"

"I'll give them back after the game," he said, ten inches of Hawthorn wood and core of unicorn hair prodding her cheek. "Or we can share. I can use them for fifteen minutes you get them for fifteen. We'll take turns."

"Fine! Here! Take the bloody thing!" She yanked the strap over her head and flung them into his hands.

"AND NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE...THE BULGARIAN TEAM MASCOTS!"

Draco leaned forward, perched at the edge of his seat, grinning broadly and muttering, "Father said it's Veela this year!"

"...Veela?"

Perhaps a hundred beautiful humanoid women with moon-bright skin tones and fanned out white-gold tresses infested the pitch. Applause was all praising and enthusiastic, more so than necessary in Toni's eyes. Looking at Draco, she watched his broadened, gray glints stick to the swarm of sirens, and reassurance percolated, for she could escape now that he was so distrait! But she was also slapped with a dosage of jealousy, however latent.

Testing her waters, she snapped her fingers before her date's eyes, and he hadn't blinked. The second time she did it, a hand zoomed up and crushed hers with great strain, birthing a wince in her features. Her hand was brought down, secured in his, to slam straight for his stiffening groin. As entranced as he had been, a portion of his brain still discerned her presence and needed her imprisoned where she was. Sweat greased her chaste left palm in ticks as she'd jolted and squirmed without freeing herself or hand. Her situation only blackened when music played, and the Veela had begun to cavort.

"They've got you _drooling_, Malfoy!"

Still struggling to free her hand, she said, "They must be seducing every heterosexual man and lesbian in this stadium…" Her pulse began to throb in her secured hand in synchronization with his junk. "God, I hope it dwindles when they're gone." Then Draco dashed to the railing yonder, forcing her up ahead with him. His stare was blank, and Toni assumed his train of thought was too. "Easy, you twit! You're going to haul us into the crowd!"

His grip tightened once the Veela capped their danced to line up at a corner of the pitch, the Irish National Team Mascots of leprechauns now entertaining. The redhead could almost feel the frustrated heat wavering off of Draco as they swiveled back to their chairs.

Toni chuckled, teasing him, "Now you get to be tolerant while I'm hypnotized by the Keepers of Pots of Gold."

"I was not hypnotized," he muttered.

"But look, there's a puddle of drool on your collar here."

"Don't do that," he snapped. "Don't try to piss me off to thwart your continued captivity. It's useless."

"Well, while we're at it, who're you rooting for?"

"Bulgarians."

"Typical," she sighed. "Of course we oppose each other in winner's preference too...I'm for Ireland, although I don't quite care who actually wins. I'm just supporting the Weasleys' favored team."

"Not surprising. You know zilch about Quidditch nonetheless."

"They're sprinkling coins into the crowds, look!" she exclaimed giddily. "I want to see if I can catch some! Release me."

"I'm alright. Don't need any, as I'm considerably rich enough."

"I said _I_ want to catch some," she scowled. "Lemme go, you spoilsport!"

"You want some money? I'm pocketing fifty on me this moment."

"No, ugh—dammit! They're vacating!" she moped, bending to garner what niggardly loose change landed in their vicinity.

"It doesn't last, Potter, you fool," he scoffed. "Leprechaun gold is fake. It'll dissolve in minutes."

"That's beside the point. Catching some would've been fun anyway."

"AND NOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN," boomed Ludo, "KINDLY WELCOME—THE BULGARIAN NATIONAL QUIDDITCH TEAM! I GIVE YOU, DIMITROV! IVANOVA! ZOGRAF! LEVSKI! VULCHANOV! VOLCOV! Aaaaaaand—KRUM!"

"Ron told 'Mione and me he dubs Krum an artist," Toni noted.

"Pfft, he gay for him?"

"AND NOW PRESENTING...THE IRISH NATIONAL QUIDDITCH TEAM!"

She rolled her eyes, years past learning to ignore his uncivil tongue. She knew the group was likely wondering where the hell she'd disappeared to, just as his parent's were as well. This second, she willed to stomp on his foot or bop his crotch so he'd curl up in pain and set her loose, but his wand handy, she killed the notion. Really, this ongoing crush on her was sinfully coy and obnoxiously irritating.

"—TROY! MULLET! MORAN! QUIGLEY!"

"Salazar, does this fucker magnify!" the Slyth announced. "Moran's fly is undone. Wager the bugger was blown just minutes ago."

"Or maybe he had to urinate. Gun-jumping pervert."

Draco smirked mischievously then. "I'd get your act together if I were you, Potter. It seems there are various factors here that uphold as threats...to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I think I see my old Captain a couple dozen rows past the rail there."

"Old Captain—ah!" Pixies danced in her belly. "You - you aren't referring to-"

"Flint?" he chirped snidely.

Yessiree, Toni remembered Marcus Flint clear as the afternoon's sky. How could she let fade from memory sprinting from him at the age of twelve when he meant to burglarize a kiss, as well as that day several weeks later in the infirmary when he'd paid her a visit—with cunning intent.

"Rubbish," she mumbled. "You're fibbing."

"Have a look yourself," he shrugged, returning the Omnioculars.

Warily, she peered through both lenses and leaned in front of Draco. An estimated eighty yards out seated exactly where Draco had said indeed sat Marcus, his atrocious molars exhibited in his laugh as he spoke to a bloke alongside him, possibly Derrick, his mate of Hogwarts.

"Be my guest," she bit. "I'm sure he's moved on by now. It's been over two years."

"But he's not with a girl," Draco reasoned slyly. "Bet he's still single, and still dreams of shagging you."

"And doesn't that bug you?" she reasoned. "Don't you want me all to yourself? You know if he finds out I'm here, he'll hog me and shun you for the whole game."

"But it would teach you a lesson, and that in itself is satisfying enough for me."

"AND HERE, ALL THE WAY FROM EGYPT, OUR REFEREE, ACCLAIMED CHAIRWIZARD OF THE INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF QUIDDITCH, HASSAN MOSTAFA!"

"Fine! Fetch him! I'll be elsewhere by the time you two get up here."

"You think I'm that dull, do you, Potter? I'd be hexing your body bound, of course."

"Shut up! If I'm stuck here with the biggest brat on the planet, then I'd like to try to watch the match in decent quiet. I should be in the Top Box with the Weasleys and 'Mione but instead I'm here in this shoddy area where not even those super binoculars can augment what's going on out there too good. School hasn't even started yet and I'm already dreading it, solely because of you."

Huffing, he left her be with her desired silence. His hand overlapped hers, and when his fingers laced hers, she yanked them to herself furiously. This, he didn't settle with, and he tried again with exceeding effort, and he was victorious. He parked his nose in her hair and sniffed until his lungs were ballooned with her strawberry scent. She chose to route without heed of him from here till the game's finale, but his inquiry broke her out of it.

"Tell me about your summer."

Draco'd not once asked her such a...rudimentary, mannerly and genial question. Her Omnioculars bounced against her chest as she was heaved from the pitches happenings, her pivot of absorption now forced on Draco's stupid question.

"_What_?"

He scoffed. "Never mind. Just do what you were doing."

"No, Draco! What the hell are you getting at, asking me something like that?! Like you're a - a friend! _How was my summer?_ If we were pals, I'd tell you the truth! I'd demystify you to how greatly it sucked living under my guardians' communistic system!"

"I've always wanted to be your friend, princess," he muttered, his gaze mean and angered. "You spurned my handshake three years ago and the rest is history."

"You know damn well why I didn't accept your offer. It was drenched in bigotry, criticizing the benign and welcoming Weasley family only due to their hand-me-down robes and blood-traitorousness! Otherwise, I would be your mate, and probably more than that, Malfoy. You're handsome and intelligent, but your arrogance-"

His lips smothered the corner of her mouth. He aimed to crush and delve past teeth and putt her tonsils with his tongue, but she foresaw the gesticulation and veered just a trifle. She was puzzled but consoled when he straightened upright, now only touching her lips with a glare.

"TROY SCORES!"

"One day you're going to be with me, I swear, Antonia. I hate to imagine how long it'll take, but I'll be waiting, even if it takes years. I'll have your kisses and I'll have your snatch."

He was halfway upstairs in moments, leaving her so distraught she hadn't caught which team had won until later when the twins peacocked their earned thirty-seven galleons.

* * *

A crescent moon was born on sixth of June's night. Midnight was minutes off, and Toni's heart knew Draco was in their room, awaiting her genitalia. Toasty wind comforted her as she lolled in the grass sixty feet from the Whomping Willow. In her left knuckle, compressing the lines of her palm was a wizard condom as she called it. A Cudo Sheath. Tonight would be glorious and stinging to the heavens high. She'd made her decision, longer ago than her conscious realized. Execrated was his promise-become-true; he had gotten her kisses and he would have her snatch before the sunrise to come, yet something in their wacko linkage smacked her sensations with a pining to mount the Slytherin slash death eater's prick. She had her erratic essence to blame for this, but nothing more.

Word jigged around that boys eschewed the utilization of sheaths, as the rubber material felt what they claimed unsavory. Kiramira's pill had to home a girl roughly a fortnight before it'd be effective enough to cancel a fetuses formation, and this night being the first night the witch would home the pill, an infant was at risk. Another mistake _wouldn't_ arise, as she'd too many to audibly admit in her nearing seventeen years. Draco's shaft would be smocked, she'd seek.

Her chemise decorated her body beneath her bathrobe in her moonlit bask on the school grounds. Her pixies buzzed within at the flashing prospect of not sex specifically with him, but just having sex. Until recently, she'd presumed her flower squished at eighteen or nineteen with Remus; she was determined to gain his affections once upon a time! But here and now, she wondered why she fancied him at all. Was she fickle, and madly so, but was there some predestination to these feelings?

Her muse would rewind and worm deeper into her cortex, repetitively, in all its increasingly lessened fruit. This was hilariously inefficacious. She thought, and thought and thought for forty more circuits of the minute hand, then she strolled the corridors and stepped seven staircases, donning her invisibility cloak.

Tiptoeing through mounds of any antique one could think of, she stopped two yards from her mattress-lain boyfriend. He was awake and ogling her, his expression dour.

"If you've approached to tell me you've changed your mind, then-"

"No," she said, undoing the knot that sealed her robe so it crumpled at her ankles. Her chemise already had him twitching in miserable ardor. "I want it. In my flighty intellect I've found myself in love with you. And I know you love me. You've only told me so thousands of times in many nagging, baffling and uncouth fashions in the last six years."

Verging salivation, he flattened his black dress shirt across the sheets before rising. Once they were four inches apart, he was unclasping her gown, and despite his having seen her naked several times this school year, she was slapped uneasy. Her garment slid down gradually, and when it flooded at her feet, her buttocks occupied his hands. To the closest wall she was thrust upon and assailed with his guzzling teeth, tongue, and lips.

"...Hap-p-py birthday," she stuttered, his mouth clung to her clavicle to sweep onto her left nipple, his applied suction so pleasurable her privates twinged. He spoke not in his ministrations, only grunting in frustration one moment or another, his sacs probably creeping their bust. Four fingers swirled into her, her piercing gasp cut by his adept kiss.

"So wet so soon, love," he teased, his thumb rubbing her clitoris. "What do you need me to do to you?"

"...You...know," she murmured meekly, shading puce.

"I do not," he said grimly. "Goad me. If it's a fuck you need, then it's a fuck you shall get, but I must hear it from you."

"Yes, yes! O-okay, that's what I need," she whispered, looking him in the eyes.

"Be explicit, Potter. **What **do you need of me?"

"Sex! What else do I say! And you call me the tease?" she growled. "I...I need you inside me! Are you happy? After all this time hating you for being a prejudiced arse I somehow...I somehow…" Shuddering anxiously, on rilled the waterworks. "I want to make love with you, Draco. I couldn't guess why precisely...maybe I'm...we're, too young to know why we swoon for us like we do. You said you know why you feel as you do for me. My mercurial habits keep your engine running...And you're so awful you've thieved my heart because you were nurtured to have what you want, and now, for once, I'd really like to have what I want."

His hands placed on her shapely hips, he inattentively gnashed his teeth; erotic statements and ministrations clouded his senses.

"Show me."

Chewing her bottom lip, her sights traveled to land on the bulge of his pelvic region. Dizzily, she lowered herself to her knees and unfastened his pants' button. She had his zipper separated perhaps two centimeters before it snagged his underwear, distressing her in a trice. Her cheeks flamed as she tussled with the problem, amusing the bloke wearing them.

"Take your time, baby," he chuckled. "We've all night; all weekend, even."

"Shut up!" she bit, her distress subsiding when she fixed the snag, taking the trousers down with a hooker's grace.

Her virginal mindset was revived, his boxer-briefed manhood quite horizontal and soddened-through with precum. Her hands quaking, she pulled and reposed the cloth at his ankles to accompany his trousers. Not quite the tigress she was the night last, she stooped a prude and abstained from pleasing him orally.

"You're built divinely," she murmured truthfully, inspecting his toned legs and torso. "Like your dad. For two bullies you're both very striking."

"Don't go fawning my father now, Potter," he muttered darkly, seeming flustered by her compliment. "I know you cultivate to older cocks, but-"

"Oh no! No, please, don't take it that way!" she said frantically, horrified she was mucking up this highly special night so young in the session.

Sneering, he wrested her to her feet in one vicious motion and tied his arms around her back, paying her reddened face concrete, doting kisses and cramming his erection against her sex, dragging her to their mattress and plummeting, keeping tangled while. He bricked on top, stomach to stomach, chest to chest, his genitals to hers. He sucked, bit, and groaned in his journey down her body, his crawl resting where he levered her thighs wide open, sinking to lick and have her confined in a shivering, mewling orgasm.

"_Nnno! Nononono, oh, God, please, oh please, I can't...please…"_

Snickering, he immersed further, cascading her into a warped eddy of paranoia. As her eyes glued to a cobweb on a nearby desk's underside, her fingers combed through short, platinum locks and her thighs pried to his ears in accidental compulsion, for he'd assumingly tasted a bale of nerves. Humiliation attacked at the fret he was dealing with the odor of musk and the flavor of indubitable bitterness or tart, though he impressed enrapture, judging his burrowed nose and vehement lapping.

His ascending graze ebbed her peak, but it re-heightened when he alighted his lips at her left ear and breathed, "You've cum so much for me and we're barely begun. I didn't think I'd get you this wet so easily."

His timbre was dense with condescension and arousal; it was almost sufficient to her ejaculating again. Just a crumb from deliquescing in her ecstasy, she pushed his chest away tersely, the head of his penis saturated in her bodily juices and labia.

"Condom!" Her index finger directed to the sheath on the floor. "You have to put that on first-"

"No, they smell and the cut off fifty percent of the sensitivity on my part. I'll be sure not to release in you, okay?"

"Draco," she snapped, glaring. "Do it for me. It's only until I'm taking the pill regularly."

He sighed impatiently, seizing the wrapper and opening it to roll it on hastily.

"Wait...how badly will it hurt?" she whispered, his hips lowering.

He didn't answer verbally, but the physical reply had her eyes watering; a new volume of pain had coursed as vaginal muscles tore and stretched to welcome what hadn't intruded any day preceding. Fulfilling his expectations, she writhed and whined to prove her engulfment of ache and discomfort, however, a gentleman he was not. He thrust her cavernous splendor continually and with a hint's ferocity because she'd adapt by their third or fourth time _if_ he could expand her inner walls as needed and smash the floret token to eliminate the pang in their sexual future. Such, he reasoned, had to be done presently.

"Hell! That—ow!" she sniveled, scraping his upper back to alleviate. Once he'd sunk completely, she shrieked. He'd slipped out to stroke her outer folds, then bucked back down cruelly, from there, his thrusts ongoing and causing her affliction.

"Shh, I know, baby," he murmured nicely through her weeping and spasmodic breaths. "Not a virgin anymore, are we? Fucking hell, you're _tight_, peach."

Her sights drank the celestial pale blue of the ceiling, slowly accepting his rhythm and doing her best to conduct one of her own, though as she was a neophyte to intercourse, requisite reciprocation was probably unseasonable. In and out, in and out, he pushed and grunted to her fluttering bawls of transferring to the liberating stage of un-innocence. Each slam might've cankered her a rupture of torture, but he tunneled himself an astonishing paroxysm, also known as the feelfuckinggoods he'd ensconced exasperating years for to plunder.

How in hades had this blend of reckless, snoot-functioned, utter bastardization swaddled with tissue and flesh grossed the mortal trophy of forward-paying bliss and saintly charisma? Why sprawled a disposed Potter, the woman of his aging dreams who, contrastingly, was hitherto rearmost of all the female students in planning to endow him Herself, as a whole? If _this_ was what he got in turn for his supposed 'penance', then he'd go to lengths of charitably aiding impoverished Hufflepuff mudbloods to keep her submission intact!

"My fucking Goddess," he moaned, helping himself to two handfuls of her pert arse to finish himself off with a jackhammering modus operandi. He totaled one hundred and forty-six seconds. About then, he'd slackened, still inside, and he panted into her neck for another fifty seconds. His limp 'hood gliding up its departure, he removed the semen-tainted sheath and threw it towards a random junk pile. He leered her slightly ajar womanhood which was now blood-coated and puffy, his eyes skating to her rising and falling breasts, to pause on her half-lidded stare.

"I'm going to go shower," she said, weakly sitting up.

"Can't wait till morning?"

"Um, no. I feel...yucky. Hand me my robe."

"We can scourgify, you know."

"Oh, I don't like that spell. I've always preferred a normal bath to it." She bunched her robe around her and stood with a wobble. "Come with me. I have my cloak we can sneak under."

"Is it the scent that bothers you?" he asked, stepping into his pants, leaving his undies behind. "Our combined sweat and-"

"Jesus! Well, yeah! We kinda stink, don't we?"

"It's not a negative pungency to me, love. I happen to get off on it."

"Whatever," she sighed, adjusting her cloak over them. "That was horrid. I knew it would be...Felt like a thousand prickles…." She smiled sheepishly. "I'm still tingling as we speak."

"Give it an additional two, three sessions. Trust me."

…

"Pinewood Dilligrout."

"Who's there with you?" the Fat Lady inquired, eyeing the noteworthy, moving, transparent skew at Toni's back scrutinizingly. "I really ought to prohibit you from running off after nine o'clock, Miss Potter," she added, aerating her chubby face with her Chinese fan. "You've been pussyfooting all this year."

"_Pussyfooting?" _Draco chortled, his pecks along her neck stifling.

"Yes, ma'am, I've been," she said, swatting her boyfriend. "I'm with Ron here. We had to take care of some errands for the headmaster and we had to using my invisibility cloak with caution of...Filch's lurking."

"Mr. Weasley came through here four hours ago...and I didn't see him slink back out…"

"_Pinewood Dilligrout_," Toni reiterated.

"Very well," the portrait sighed, unlocking. "But don't play me a fool, darling. If you're rendezvouses resume _without_ my tattling to Caretaker Filch, you're to match me up with Sir Cadogan," she simpered.

"Deal," Toni assured, pressing Draco's shirt to her ever-bleeding, recently deflowered lady bits. "I'll talk to him first thing tomorrow."

Gripping his wrist, she scurried through the hole, no extra words exchanged. They descended twelve steps, her in the lead, pausing him in his stance to hand him his bloody shirt, muttering, "Stay put and fix that cloak on thoroughly. I've gotta make sure the coast is clear." He smirked as she skittered away, to tug him another fourteen steps down fewer than sixteen ticks later. "The fireplace is always aflame. Lots of red round here. Can't assume it's up to your par, though," she laughed, beelining him left to the girls' shower room which abutted the girls' dorms.

"Had to bite my tongue to keep from snarling something at that Fat bitch," he remarked. "And yeah, this is too homey for my liking."

"Silence," she said, grabbing a fresh bar of soap from the rack of samples and stripping from her bathrobe upon arriving to the final shower booth to the right of the chamber. "We're to race through this and remain hushed in case someone comes."

"You're the only one who's gonna be coming, pet."

"Not for an interval. I'm obliterated down there," she admitted, sliding the door shut, enclosing them and bringing lukewarm water to life.

Draco plucked the bar from her hand and wettened it, his mouth smashing hers for the umtieth account that night, also scrubbing her mound vigorously, evidencing he hadn't gone entirely clement and was dominate yet in their partnership.

"Urgh—D-d-draco, sore!" she squeaked into his lips.

"_Mine_." He set the soap on a shelf above them and squeezed either of her breasts with his right forearm, his left cupping her inflamed vagina. "You've sold me your hymen, your soul, your heart, your lips, your cunt, your tits, your throat, your neck, your arse, your legs, your feet, your arms, your hands, your stomach, your entrails, _all of you_, and I fucking mean it."

"Yesss," she murmured hoarsely.

He'd unleashed her virginity among else. So this deformed fettle of peace had grown her spirit, as nastily aberrant its weight. Why had she wasted fantasies on a werewolf twenty years her senior when pure sensual dickory had her hounded many, many days in his years of attainability? Furthermore, had her inner fool re-awoken or was this bond as innocent as the one in which Neville'd volunteered?

Neither were angels. Neither were demons. He was a despot. She was a sweetheart. To her, this night, this moment, they had in common, their jubilation.

* * *

a/n: My take on smutty scenes might differ from others. Writing lemons aren't utterly up my alley. My writing style as a whole can be...unique, even if I don't really mean for it to be. At least I'm having _fun_ writing this! If I'm ever superfluous in depicting sex itself or anything else regarding the plot, express that if you wish. Thank you dearest reader for reading up on/continually following this. Loving the reviews and story-stickers :)


	32. In the Air Tonight

**Chapter Thirty-Two  
**_**In the Air Tonight**_

As a golden dawn rayed through pyramids of rubbish and heirlooms, Draco's porcelain hand squeezed her womanhood that would be haggled thousands just to plow and relish once again. Chapped lips streamed the witch's slender neck, the wizard holding his territory possessively whilst scooting her in so her bare backside brushed his naked shame. Her throaty, hardly audible hum stiffened that which teased her soft buttocks, his innate sensuality tiding and his appetite to flip her on her back, spread thighs, then pound, apexing mightily.

"Potter," he grumbled at the shell of her right ear. "Rise and shine, baby," he bonused slyly, fingers penetrating and his head slanting to nibble on a pebbled areola. Gently and groggily, she came to, sighing and finding consolation in his caressing until he rolled onto her from behind, pressing her upper back into the mattress strenuously. "Arch up for me a little ways. I'm going to give it to you from behind."

"Draco! I - I am still recovering, you horny tosser," she said feverishly.

"Mm, right...though your throat should be in well condition…" A devious, crooked smirk thinned on his face. "Get on your knees."

"I think not," she murmured, flushing cerise.

"I buried my face in your warm, slick juices last night, love. It sounds incumbent to return the favor, does it not?"

"I gag on my own toothbrush, mind you, and I don't feel ready for that at present."

"You showed no hesitancy in giving my cock a kiss," he reminded steelily.

"Top of the morning to you too, my rather frisky mate," she sighed choppily. "And you buried your face in...me on your own will. I'd never ask someone to do that!"

"Your tone suggests you disfavored the gesture. Strange, as your intonating moans are still stained into my memory, suggesting solely that you were pleasured more so than ever before in your years. Oh yeah, and you came _thrice_ preceding the entrance of my prick."

"I am suggesting I'm _modest_, Draco," she disputed. "A gentlelady. While your demonstration...did what it did to me, I wouldn't ask for it. I was morbidly embarrassed the duration anyway."

"My mousy minx," he muttered with a lubricious face, turning her to position himself with those consummated mammaries, soft tummy and waist.

Sprinkling ardent kisses over her lips, chin, neckline and cleavage, his shaft grazed her mound tenderly and for but a tick, only to go admonished. Her form cringed beneath him as she silently reminded him her parts were far too sore for seconds. He settled for ensnaring her into a necking spate and an intimate and quite naked intertwine of limbs that would last the morning's entirety.

.

.

.

"It was like jamming a cucumber through a...very stubborn orifice," Toni shrugged, tinging her unique and common scarlet at the mental visualization. "I was still bleeding a tad when I woke up. He wouldn't let me on my way for three hours. We talked on insignificant matters which I recall vaguely and he kissed me insensate. He kept urging me for 'a gentle fuck' but I refused him as I'm still aching this moment." She laid across the common room's couch to roost her tired head on an armrest. "My rent purity got so vengeful it insisted I wear a tampon a fortnight early. Lucky blokes with their unscathed manhood their first times and their last. We have three holes you know, and I'm certain Draco crammed himself into the wrong one _at least_ four thrusts!"

Fay sat on the floor stony-faced, gingerly sipping her chamomile. "...Do you regret…?"

"I don't. I wanted it with all my heart, and probably my soul too. I wouldn't take it back."

"Mm, I think it's a bit soon to say that," Fay opinionated. "Wait some years. We both shall. Then we'll return to the subject."

"Yes," Toni agreed, "when I have my bun in the oven."

…

"Funny it is to see you in here now, Myrt. It's almost as if you were deliberately far-flung when I last came in here for a bath the night Draco so happened to creep in and get cozy with me…"

"Insight, the burden it might be on me, has ultimately proven useful for your nasty intentions," the ghost giggled immaturely. "Aren't you cheery I wasn't drifting about when that icky man stooped to a state of undress and molest? I died innocent and as virgin as you once were."

"Should have figured you saw the bastard ahead of time. And goodness, yes! Thank you for not...being present."

"Didn't lay odds losing your cherry would hurt as it did, hm? I spy a happier next few rounds...oh, forthcoming too…"

"Unashamed brat! Quit that! Stop peering into my future, unless it affiliates with the crucial, like horcruxes and You-Know-Who."

"Does a dank n' craggy cave adventure with the headmaster appeal to you as crucial?"

"...A cave?"

"The elderly coot will elucidate furthermore when the date dings. I'm just clueing you in with teasing hints, Annie."

"So it will be a hunt for a horcrux, I presume?"

"I shan't relinquish. My superiors have menaced exile unto me for letting oopsy daisy my translucent tongue overly."

"Where would you be exiled?"

Myrtle gulped. "The Heavens, where surely awaits my great-grandmum Gertrude, also surely still to-this-day fuming angrily from my breaking of her favorite seventh century dish to splinters."

"Alrighty. I won't press you moreover, dearest. You've fulfilled my deepest wonders sufficiently already." She lathered her right foot. "Draco isn't evil, just an arse, Dumbledore and I are going to lay bare all the leftover horcruxes jointly and trounce Voldemort, and best of all, he's going to be OK throughout, as are my loved ones."

Myrtle wisely delayed to grimace until the witch's head lolled back and her eyes closed, a whoosh of apologetic sympathy coursing within her discarnate confines.

* * *

On June fourteenth's morning, a scraggly, brown, white-striped Barred Owl swooped above Toni to uncurl a scroll from its toes so it could splash into her cereal. Wiping a milk droplet from her eyebrow, she unrolled the parchment that had been addressed by a flat of Cuffley, where allegedly, Dobby and his new little family were residing.

Seven inches of tiny chicken scratch met her eyes as her brain was met with guile. For the whole of that week Draco had pestered her to be a submissive little sweetheart again and tonight she'd relent, as she had something to distract herself with while her stubborn orifice endured his stiff cucumber. If his inked yammerings turned out a worthy diversion she'd thank the elf oodles.

That evening, she summoned the arrogant blond up to their room, encouraging him with words of how she was ready to spread her legs some more. All probity examined, she wasn't quite so ready, and although she'd nurtured this rejuvenating connection with Draco in succession to giving him her 'coming of age' passage, the second round wasn't an upcoming and dedicated event on her itinerary. But oi, the distraction seemed worthwhile.

She tremulously unrolled the parchment whilst undergoing his raptorial bucks, her frame jouncing lightly, her grasp weakening.

_13 June 1997_

_Miss Antonia Potter  
__Hogwarts Scool of Wichcraft and Wizardry_

_Oh Bittys and Dobbys and Is new home is wonderous miss! Wes gifted a mini flat with mini uccomidasions! Wes a balconnee and furnicher sootabul for our size and wes within conveeniant distince ov a food market. Our Bittys doing swimmingly too miss! Dobbys a magnificint father truly he is! Hes up first thing when baby sqwolls mid - night and he has a way of rocking her strayt to sleep. Weve- _

"Wrap your legs around me."

_-beefrended our house-elf neighbors and wes doing better then either of us did ever before this lovely home and our Bitty. Oh wes so so tired too miss but wes happy and woodnt dream other wise. It is good to see Dobby so delited! and my self too becus weve both been threw a lot of handbaskets of Haydees. Paradice had found us. Dobby wishes you his best and to tell you he has asked me to write becus hed never ben tot to by his former owners the Malfoy family. Both us hope you and frends visit! Dobbys-_

"Set that aside," issued his growl, moist kisses pathing her jawline. "Give me your full cooperation."

"You've got it already," she complied curtly, her walls inadvertently clamping as he bore a fleck that elicited a shriek. "I...I...I'm y-yours."

"You are indeed," he grunted, margining his release, his body blotched to an angry pink. "So I require your attention span and your cooch concomitantly."

She surveyed the ceiling above while he finished himself off. As presumed, it had hurt less this time, although sensations had yet to leave its consoling trace with her.

"The letter's from Winky and Dobby. It's a follow-up," she breathed. "I chose to read it now to avert my pain a bit…"

"Well, I take offense to that, baby. I want all of you."

"I _know_, Draco," she said frustratingly. "You remind me constantly, thanks."

"Was that easier? Not as painful?"

"Erm, yes," she mumbled, gathering her knickers. "I think so."

"Should we assemble a schedule or go about these meetings spontaneously? Personally, I like the 'whenever' appro-"

"What on earth? Draco, sex isn't something one schedules! You know, I think you should be more grateful that I've given up something so cherished for you of _all_ the other nice blokes out there. Until weeks ago, I'd never suspected I'd desecrate myself with you. This still feels off to me, okay? We'll do this when I want. I'm the girl, so understand that I might not want to take a hard six inches up my _cooch_ every day like one of your previous girlfriends."

"The squeamishness is normal, love. I'm understanding. You'll be over your conniptions in no time," he promised derisively. "And so you are the girl, and I'm the man. Your statement came off as just a wee smidgen sexist to me, Potter. So you, as the lady, get to decide when and when not to take a cock? Well, what about us? What if sometime you're little mound is sopping and I'm not moodful of performing? Let us both concur on our arrangements of fucking, yeah? I was just trying to be a gent with my suggestion, and we're both busy on a daily basis so we can't exactly do this anytime, except for the weekends. A schedule would be suitable for us for three more weeks, just till school lets out. Then we can date and walk around in public holding hands and sharing ice cream cones like typical couples. This is new for us both, tart. We're taking things one step at a time, so relax. You're going to be alright."

"But we can't maintain a relationship like other people can. I've really got to watch my arse, as do you. I wager you're among Voldemort's audience his every meeting-call. The minute he notices what's not quite right about you he'll ransack through your head and we'll both be fucking toast." She shivered at the visual. "I'm just very afraid. Myrtle has said things that please me, but I have a bad notion that won't fade away..." The vanishing cabinet off to her right stood out in her peripheral gaze. "The cabinet's fixed, isn't it? Tell me what it's for."

"We've been through this," he answered tersely.

"_Tell me_ what it's for."

"Won't be necessary. Your dead girl friend told you everything's going to be fine."

"But how can she be right when you have underhanded intentions for that thing? Come on. I had sex with you twice, and I plan to more, but-"

"The cabinet is _not _to thwart our progression, sweetheart," he argued irritably. "Quit trying to put that between us. I can see you now naming that device off as an excuse to some future conflict we birth."

'_Birth...'_

"Gods, you've always been a fickle bint, Potter."

That ever niggling dam of unsettlement busted within. Had foresight visited his subconscious then? Apparently, it had...or not. She had this habit of getting ahead of herself. Unrestrained expedition, it was just another one of her unhealthy qualities. Myrtle suffered the same.

"I'll be seeing you." She moved her fickle feet towards the exit.

.

.

.

_Reminisce: Fall of 1993 - The Disparaging Hook-Nosed Bully_

In writing potion's inceptive essay of the term, Toni was especially careful. With know-it-all Hermione as her editor, she happily stacked her parchment atop Professor Snape's pile, her guts confident that it would come back to her scribbled with _Exceeds Expectations_ at the least.

But, her guts roasted and her spleen lurched the day her composition was slapped in front of her scrawled with a tragically familiar _Poor_, just as if it were a paper of last year or the year before. What stung greater was the graded scroll's dearth of an explanation to elucidate why he deemed her seventeen inches of grammatically correct by-the-Godric-forsaken-book fluency a harsh _Poor_.

Anguished, she peered at Ron's, a thickly inked _**Dreadful**_ glaring back. Ron had misspelled four words in the first line, however. He was nobody to fuss, as Hermione did offer him her revision which he so proudly declined.

"Biased serpent!" Toni snarled very quietly, said prof just the table over, rebuking Longbottom.

"You're surprised?" Ron said, quirking a ginger brow. "Bloke hasn't ever graded us with anything higher than a P."

"What did 'Mione get?" she asked glumly.

"Won't show me. Can't be too good. Reckon she'll be in the dumps for a week or two, judging how depressed she was over first and second year never getting a deserved O."

"This is preposterous, Ron," she huffed, her cheeks hueing rose. "We could jot up Shakespearean prose and he'd ink us lowly solely because we are not Slytherins!"

"...Shakespearean?"

"I'm stomping up to that desk straightaway after class. He mistreats us outrageously inexplicably. I won't stand it this year. I won't."

"Drop it, Toni. Last thing we need are subzero House points," Ron whispered worriedly. "Provoke the bastard enough, he might boot you from the class, not that I would call that a bad thing, but-"

"I'm doing it," she said brusquely. "And I'm gonna be civil. I'm going to ask him why he has this mad proclivity for the other three Houses, and I shall rain upon him inquires of why he hates me unjustifiably. He can take as many House points as he pleases. I need an answer to this shite."

As the class emptied out into the corridor, she encountered the prof, her essay unraveled and held at the wizard's narrowed eye level. He merely ran a spiteful glimpse through her and took a step aside, focused on departing, but her query tapped at his eardrums.

"I'd like to ask you something, professor."

"I'm afraid I cannot at this moment, Miss Potter. I've a meeting elsewhere," he apprised her monotonously, pacing for the doorway nearing the speed of light, only annexing her complaints of him with more constructive excuse.

"Tonight, then? I can meet you in here! Is seven dandy?"

He paused at the threshold, eerily spinning to squint black knives into her courageous emeralds that were devastatingly reminiscent of her late mother's.

"Six-thirty would better suit my slate," he replied, his gray molars bared and scary. "Do be punctual showing up and do not consume _five_ minutes of my heed."

His robes whipped behind him as he stalked off. She was simmering.

…

She'd not ever sped through the dungeons so hastily, nor had she ever been so determined to go to the sullen leader of the snakes. She caught her breath outside his room, ironing her slightly wrinkled parchment with her palms to restore its neatness some. A sheet of golden light shone underneath the heavy wooden door, indicating that the odious git kept right to his agreement and was nestled inside, awaiting. Her nerves fringed with neurotic flames, she inhaled fiercely and knocked twice. Having four minutes to spare, she wasn't lionhearted enough to muse how Snape would condone her barging in too early. She was safer achieving his assent, definitely.

Six feet of thin, pasty man stood in her midst, the door having opened so very quick, it would stain as a mere blur into her memory. Quivering like she was stark, soaking wet and laying in snow, she rose her essay and referred, "Our meeting…? I know I'm several minutes early-"

"This way," he sighed nasally, storming for his desk.

His bony derrière stabbing into the cushion of his chair, he scowled at her as to varnish her spine with icicles. This setting had operated contrarily to her furious head of earlier that day when her imagination's doppelganger quipped curses, piping refutes and insults at him with brutality that earned her one thousand detentions and a snatching of all the meager start-of-term points Gryffindor owned thus far, but she'd gotten her point across, and that alone was damn ducky.

Reality thrived on the same spurn the prof did here and now as she stood with a racing mind of gibberish, oblivious as to what to caw. Simplistically, she set her essay under his oversized snout and mumbled, "Why?"

"Why...not?" he challenged darkly, his countenance flickering vexed.

"Well, it's just…" she perspired lightly, her thoughts blanking. "There is nothing _poor_ about this."

"So you pretend," he mocked bitterly. "Pray tell, Miss Potter, five solid rationales that constitute your essay mediocre."

'_Lord, strike me dead!'_

"I - I have misspelled not one word, I didn't drift off track; it's based on the content table you gave us. It's met the required length of at least seventeen inches, it's fluent-"

"If you'd the authority to rank your work, what would you have marked?" he sneered, his obsidian pupils misty with animus. "Satisfy my curiosity."

"...Well, an A or even an E would have frosted my biscuit."

"Well, as your instructor for the potions curriculum, I only grade how I seek moral," he said, his face screwed up like he'd taken a generous whiff of flatulence. He inked his quill and drew a line through her Poor. "I do find your argument of subtle validation. Perhaps I was hasty in finalizing you such a label."

She chewed on her bottom lip when a smile threatened to show her appreciation. It miscarried, however, when she registered the fat **Troll** he'd scratched beside her old P.

"...P-professor?!"

"We don't always get what we desire, do we, young lady?" the sour wizard snarled, scooting her parchment her way. "You're bold attitude and churlishness rather validates you the lowest mark in the system."

"But why did I even have a bad mark to begin with?!" she demanded, the color of her flesh matching her hair.

"Do quieten your bickering unless you're starving for a month's detention."

"Fine! Sentence me all the blasted detentions you like! You're just taking out your pent-up despondency on anybody who's not in your sacrid House of arseholery, sir! This," she wagged her essay ferociously, "epitomizes your steam blowing! Just fail the students whom aren't so cunning or ambitious! You're but a biased, disparaging, hook-nosed bully!"

"Your childish allegations harness no credence, you dunderheaded nuisance. Now, if feasible, seal your ceaseless yap and listen to me. I do not teach or regulate my course with a biased state of mind, though alternatively, an equitable and perusing one. I judge as I view the truth."

"So how is it true that my essay is unworthy of an acing grade?"

"It's glaringly plain you cheated," he barked wickedly.

"How in God's name is that?!"

"My pledged heed on you is wearing short fast here, Potter. Will that be all from you or shall I extract another two-hundred points from the standard hundred I planned to subtract the moment you countered my methods?"

"Please, why do you think I cheated?" Her voice cracked as her emotions were. "I worked really hard on that! I am n-not a fraud."

"You surely stammer as a liar, and a dreadfully unconvincing one at that. You've now brought Longbottom's essays' authenticity to mind. Perhaps his brain's too frail to concoct a disposition without the aid of someone of minor intelligence at most after all."

A whimper absconded from the depths of her chest, her Gryffish valiance leaping to smash into cold, rigid concrete. She shook her head, disputing him yet, even as tears seeped.

"Hermione reviewed it, but her quill didn't skim the damn parchment _once_," she whispered. "She said it was nice, a little underdeveloped in the sixth paragraph on Bundimun Pomade's deadly side effects, but a finished and passable piece nonetheless." She plucked her parchment from the desk and crumpled it up. "Heftily doubt you gifted the brightest witch of my year any of the three passing grades. It's no wonder she wont flaunt it to Ron or I."

"Excuse yourself this instant," he snapped. "Note you've detention every Saturday morning leading up to the holidays. Gryffindor will also be down a distinct amount that your peers are doomed to notice."

Clenching her fists inside her jacket's pockets so her nails dented into her palms, she fled, gobsmacked, hurt and repulsed.

* * *

On June thirtieth, Draco, scruffy and edgy, skulked outside the Gryffindor common room beside the continually interrogating Fat Lady, from five to seven o'clock a.m., when his girlfriend stepped out of the portrait hole as the twenty-third girl to have done so. Her perception did not log his presence until she was lugged by her red and gold-striped necktie, strangled somewhat during.

"The hell are you-"

"We need to talk," he spat hushedly, "In private."

"I'LL SEE YOU AT BREKKIE, FAY!" she shouted at her befogged friend. "We have to keep our rendezvous strictly to dialogue, love. I told you we can have sex tom-"

Into Filch's sixth floor closet she was propelled. A muttered lumos brightened the space, showing Toni how extensive Draco's hot mess was. She'd seen him in mangier shape before, but his unparted hair and stubble (which she'd secretly adored) denoted his stress.

"Antonia…" he swallowed, casting his sights downward, "Sweetheart, you feel strongly for me, yeah?"

She eyed him warily. "If you're getting this worked up because I've yet to go down on you,-"

"This isn't about that," he snarled. "Answer me."

"I do."

He nodded, more to himself, then sighed as if her reply appeased him. "You mentioned you're not coming here this fall."

"I'm probably not," she said, growing concerned for his weird behavior. "I'm not secure to with Voldemort's tiding power. Dumbledore and I are banding up to accumulate what keys will grant the bastard his coup de grâce."

His expression shaded ill once she spoke that last sentence. Inhaling crookedly, he went on, "So where will you be living? You wouldn't be too safe at your aunt and uncle's…"

"I was never too safe with my dastardly guardians," she chuckled. "I'm gonna be moving from place to place. Can't stick to one place long with Riddle out to get me. Since Ron's brother, Bill, and Fleur are marrying sometime this August, I think I'll be staying with the Weasleys, but I doubt for long."

"You're attending a bloody wedding out in the public eye? Merlin, Potter! The risk is catastrophic, you ignorant bint!"

"The ceremony will be quite private," she enlightened scoldingly. "So untwist your knickers, won't you?"

On the brink of panting, he gave a curt nod. This was the most flustered she'd ever seen him. "The Weasels Burrow, then?"

"What is this about?" she bit, her caution overloading. "If you're thinking about fessing this secret of mine up to that sodding-"

"You really are an ignorant bint!" he hissed. "How could you think I'm hyped to participate as another of his right-hand-bitches? I'm itching for a spot in the sidelines with my mother. If there is a God and he hears me, I shouldn't have much to do with the Dark Lord directly." His complexion signaled profound hopelessness.

"I need more than your word of how you're poised you'll be a reserver," she said solemnly, "I wouldn't count on your excelled legilimens either. If he suspects something—anything—he'll crucio and threaten your family with avada."

"There's nothing to suspect, and to ease your worries and boost your trust in me…" He drew his wand and held her right hand. "The Vow, for old time's sake."

"Hell, no!" she screeched, flinging her arm to herself wildly. "The one time was sufficient!"

"I want your faith in me," he snapped, acquiring her wrist coercively. "This'll prove to you how greatly I care for you."

"I won't contribute to putting _your_ life on the line!"

"We're not leaving this fucking closet till you do."

"Who's the ignorant one here?" she muttered. "Proposing something as dire as that?! Had I known what that spell is designated for the night you forced me through it,-"

"Remember your friends, dearest. If you don't trust me, how are you going to function sanely when I could be pouring my brain out to the Lord on your whereabouts? I need you composed and trustful in me while you do whatever you will with...Dumbledore and whomever. You get it? I'll die before he knows where the hell you are."

"Oh, what a romantic," she scoffed. "That doesn't explain why you're so interested in where I'm residing after this school year runs up."

"I must know so I can stay in contact with you. When things tumble downhill, we might need each other for...comfort."

"I'm not sure our relationship will work when shit hits the fan, Draco. Plenty of bad is soon going to smother me. You can't just snap up at the Burrow or wherever else I am whenever, and forget possibly carrying on anything in the Room of Requirement."

"No, but we can make this work. Who will stand your bawling or be there holding you in bed at night when your insomnia sucks up your capability to nod off as the fear you perpetually wield reinforces? Do you think Ron or Lupin'll drink your woes and touch and writhe their ways inside you? Relieve you of a day's torture and strain like I can?" he snorted. "Would you rather I go to Parkinson or a Greengrass sister when I need to fuck off all the built-up stress of serving You-Know-Who?"

"You wouldn't," she muttered, blinking back a layer of frustrated tears.

"You don't know that, nor do I at the moment, but why chance it when you could give me your hand and concentration for the next minute? I know you won't have anything of me if you lose full trust in me."

"You're wrong. I already regard restricted trust in you, love." She obligingly rose her hand. "But since this is going somewhere stupid and un-advantageous…"

He gripped her wrist firmly while he cast that familiar red loop. A sample of reassurance then settled within her, insolubly, as if she felt he was candidly virtuous in solidifying his oath to securing her secrecy, for his breaking would be punishable by death.

"I'm not yielding just to ensure you don't screw someone else," she made clear.

"Right," he said, more truthfully than she interpreted. "None of that concerns this Vow anyway."

And of course he wouldn't taint his dick with the climaxing wetness of some other slag when he bore unspecified, annoying albeit esteemed feelings—and the buggering virginity of—his little Gryffindor lady here. He wasn't extremely positive, but he believed what he stored for her was love. Marriage didn't loiter his present dreams, at his ripe seventeen, but the phrase 'for better or worse' sure did with this bint. She would inevitably suffer in close time and he would bestow his services of solace. He'd do for her what he could muster, notwithstanding the destined-to-be horrific obstacles.

_If_ he survived his Lord's wrath once he bungled his errand that evening, that was.

As for her, partaking in a second UV was more mandatory than it initially seemed. Months ago she'd told Draco of what could ambush Hermione's, Ron's and her refuge(s), (and possibly Fay, but Toni had been trying to talk her into attending her seventh year to watch over Ginny and the particularly vulnerable and innocent Luna) had Voldemort gotten to know and dispatch his devoted worshipers to abduct them.

By now, she considered the Slyth a friend by unorthodox measures and she'd plead her prayers of no harm to him, and, if there was a God, she thought, Draco wouldn't be a suspect of renegade to Voldemort in the time it'd take to amass the remaining horcruxes.

...

That afternoon, Dumbledore summoned Toni to his office, asking that she bring her invisibility cloak, rousing vertiginous anticipation on her behalf. Over months, the headmaster had traveled to and fro the castle out of heed to the undisclosed horcruxes. Reviewing the contents of one memory in his inconveniently derisory Dark Lord-associated collection, a cave that sat upon a sea's cliff where decades ago two orphan children were terrorized by the aspiring megalomaniac provided clue as to a horcrux's residence.

She ascended the astronomy tower's stairwell with a jog, her cloak tight in her grasp. As she neared the top, a monotonous drawl glued her inanimate. She tuned in closely as Snape spoke bitterly with the headmaster. She'd come too late to pick up on what it was that Snape didn't want to do anymore, and Dumbledore's feedback was vague in turn.

Spiraled sixteen steps below, Toni watched Snape discharge himself with vitriol she could almost taste. He'd marched down to where she stood, her back against the railing, and he evened his black glints on her downcast eyes. Slytherin's Head hadn't earned any eye contact from the younger Gryff for some time, namely since his awkward intrusion on the sixth floor's loo, where he'd caught his prized student and the troubled Chosen One practically copulating. The pairing had mystified him, not vis-à-vis to Mr. Malfoy's overt aged affections for the girl per se, but rather, the girl's adrenalized corresponding demonstration. The prof exited briskly once Potter's daughter gasped with a banshee's pitch. He took the girl was mortified, but he was no one to leak empathy, hence his docking her House seventy points and enacting a grim berate with the wealthy brat on his gravely inappropriate PDA.

"Before you slap your provocations, sir, I'm not eavesdropping," she informed him quietly, her tone lavishly timid. "The headmaster and I are-"

He was descending quicker than her sentience could detect, killing her drive to explain moreover. Taking moments to recuperate from the greasy git's maximal paucity in civility, she carried on to meet the deferential prof upstairs.

"That horizon's especially glorious in its dismissing the sun this evening, Antonia, dear," the elder noted humbly, his hands folded around his back. His twinkly bespectacled eyes found hers. "Are you certain you're apt to accompany me tonight?"

"I can miss one pretty sunset," she laughed, overlooking his double context.

"I'm giving an option. You are not obligated to join me, but if you truly do wish to-"

"Yes, please, I am coming," she said eagerly. "I'm more federated with this whole mission and its involved horcruxes than anybody else out there, sir, aside from Voldemort himself. Do allow me this privilege."

"You're frightened. As a sixteen-year-old lady I hate to have personally witnessed such stress, such terror and such defeat in someone so young. While it's vital that I expose you to your awaiting dangers, the task pangs me every occasion. We are likely an effectual discovery in this outing tonight, but do bear in mind potential dejection, child. Challenges lay ahead for you and I alike over the next hour, and alas, onwards." The mentor ogled the orange sky outwards, his wrinkled hands gripping the rail. "Some slack is due cut on your part. Concede now if you agree."

"Why, of course, professor. I agree. I am frightened. I'm so distraught for my friends and those whom I love that I'm continually nauseated and I don't quite think straight, but here's a clearheaded thought. I have to proceed. Much as I'd genuinely yearn to crawl into some safe hole, I can't and won't. I belong in this; all this horrific rubbish. I appreciate your concerns, sir, but…" she presented him a hand, "I demand that you escort me to that horcrux."

The old wizard nodded formally, telling her to drape her cloak onto the rail, then wrapping his fingers around the brave's wrist. A gut-rearranging rotation later, student and prof stood upon a sleek cliff, chubby waves oscillating amid. Their downward amble surrounded them with dank air, dim luminescence and a rocky floor. Two globes of lumos lit their propinquity adequately. A sporadic drip was solely heard as no words were passed for a dozen minutes.

As noted by Dumbledore, a camouflaged doorway projected from an alcove. He approached the wall promptly, slicing his forearm and drawing blood before Toni could object antsily. His bodily fluid was the key to passaging them through to the gigantic, pitch-black waters that beheld.

"Look there, Antonia," Dumbledore directed, pointing to the bright leafy glow in the middle of the lake. "I believe that's our horcrux."

"Right, okay, then," she said, jittering. "I shall swim out and retrieve it."

"Not a toe is to submerge these waters, my dear," he said sternly. "I sense permeation. Besides, it appears we are fortuned ulterior means of travel." He rose his wand, erecting a rowboat from the lake's bottom. "Careful getting on. Do not touch the water."

"Aye," she murmured, watching the boat pour its brimming water and levitate down to float ashore. Albus lowered himself onto the boat's first thwart, Toni to seat herself at his back on the second. They wafted to the flick of Albus' wand. Momentarily, Toni peered into the water to identify the faint-worthy.

"GOD!" she screeched, slamming a hand over her mouth, her breathing ragged and her heart clouting at the glimpse of the subaqueous graveyard. Hundreds of decayed corpses, heaped carelessly. Lightheaded, she feared she was on the rim of toppling in, to sink to their depths and meet somebody's soggy stomach or head. "That monster!"

"Deep breaths, my child. Keep your sights ahead," Dumbledore advised softly as they'd come across a small island's shore. He stepped out, offering the wracked witch a hand. Some feet forwards, a basin containing a clear liquid expected them. A ladle-like dish was supplied at the basin's lip. The headmaster moved to fill it.

"You must see to this bowl becoming bone-dry, dear," Albus instructed solemnly. "No matter my hysteria, you are to force me to drink it all."

"But I can-"

"No." He swallowed his first mouthful—his face contorting expeditiously afterwards, and his balance depreciating. He staggered, crumbling to his knees with sharp and swift momentum. He gazed at Toni, pained and lucidly exhausted.

Hesitantly she refilled the dish and had to indeed recourse to forcible procedures to pour the liquid down his gullet, her own pained expression forming as he twitched excruciatingly and groaned. With roughly three ounces left in the basin, the professor was shielding his arms in efforts to fend her off, but she clung to her vow, blabbering her remorse and shedding tears of solicitude.

"It's empty now; we did it," she breathed, kneeling to embrace and attempt to pull him upright. A locket laid in the basin, not a droplet of liquid neighboring it. Albus walked leaning against Toni, his shuffle sedate and fragile.

"Water, Antonia," he croaked, pausing in his place and hunching languidly.

She proceeded to garner a cupful of lake water, but something in the atmosphere altered suddenly and disconcertingly. Swishy noises resonated from far beneath, and she tumbled backwards with a piercing yelp when the corpses kicked their legs and waved their arms underwater to reach the air. They were advancing damn speedily too.

"Um—Sir!" she scrambled for the professor, clutching onto him the way traumatized children did their mothers. "They've - they've come to life!"

Two, three, five dragged themselves aground, a shy twenty feet away now. The numbers swelled—the inferi encroaching either mortal murderously. Employing what meager energy he treasured, Albus' right hand swept for the locket while the left magicked them a great circle of fire, potently intercepting the bodies. The head devitalizing by the tick, Toni hugged him to her chest and apparated them back to the castle.

* * *

Moonlight illuminated the astronomy tower's perimeter by the time Albus and Toni swirled in. Glancing out to spy a massive, spotlit Dark Mark among semi-opaque clouds, he ordered her to fix her cloak on and retrieve Professor Snape from his office.

No questions asked, she scurried six feet, but was hexed frozen, about tipping over, but the railing broke her fall, leaving her tilted mere feet from the stairwell. Inching footsteps went heard, though in her stance, the head was seen more towards her right, her main view that of the spherical structure of planet earth installed above the class' floorboards. Her eyes staring unmoving despite her efforts, the footsteps had turned out her boyfriend, his wand trained on the old prof.

Scenarios of only the worst began to flit in her mind, but her delirium soothed as Myrtle's foreshadowing coos executed any bad prospects. Oh yes, Draco's subliminal conscience wouldn't dare allow him to annihilate anyone. The circumstance before her eyes didn't come across as a guarded one, but somehow, and at some point, all would be fittingly again. It would.

Her middle jerked upon observing Draco disarm the prof, but her ghostly acquaintance's girlish tenor staved goosebumps from elongating her body. Professions going back to September spilled from Draco, most of which Toni acknowledged thus. Immobile, she goggled the wizards, her reliance in Myrtle escalating supplementarily at Dumbledore's declaration of how Draco belonged with 'the right side'. It was just a matter of time, Toni assumed, that McGonagall or Slughorn or the Minister himself would be barging by to save the night. Hopefully they'd leave Draco off with a warning once he explained that he was pressurized into bearing his mark and following You-Know-Who's task. Perhaps her and Draco would be smiling back at this trifling muck the next sunrise, after having made love on their mattress in their private room…

Or perhaps Myrtle had been erroneous in her clairvoyance…

Four Death Eaters strolled into Toni's sidelong stare, Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback among them.

"What?" she gaped inaudibly. '_Can he take on them all? Can McGonagall, or Slughorn or...'_ she cringed internally, her own disbelief making her prostrate. '_It's okay! It's gonna be OK! She promised me! Any moment now...He's got a trick up his sleeve. He's not going to surrender his fate just like that! He's got this, I know he does! And Draco is __**not**_ _evil. He's shown me his good...' _

"GO ON, DRACO! DO IT NOOOOOOW!" his crazed aunt bellowed.

"He's not like you, you feral cunt!" she seethed, going unheard. "Don't deny your dignity, love!" Trepidation whirled her head and hyperventilation paid her another visit.

'_Why did he freeze me?'_

The guru's protective means overrode the emergency at hand. She squirmed, her muscles screaming to flex into motion as her appetite to retrieve Snape proliferated to boundless proportions. Draco's conspicuous reluctance and anxiety quaked off his bones, affecting her in its contagiousness. In this instance she was thrown back to the night of September the first when Draco meted her a dosage of his cruel facet and managed to gain an infinitesimal chunk of her heart, though she'd yet to realize this consciously. If he passed his Lord's quest within the oncoming minutes, she'd truly be a right staunch idiot, for trusting Myrtle's faux titters and for teaming up her privates with Draco motherloving Malfoy's. If this situation ended with searing backfire, maybe she'd start dating Ron.

Relief mixed with alarm upon Snape's appearance. Unless Dumbledore had directed him up here sometime beforehand, he was not along for a just reason. That hadn't been the case. If it were, the slimeball would have been there already awaiting them when they returned from the horcrux pick-up.

She'd sworn her heart froze along with her limbs and eyes when the raven-haired prof grazed past Draco, his wand targeting the headmaster. Dead silence bustled the circumference three seconds more preceding the eldest wizard's plea, and instantaneously, a brilliant verdant explosion radiated the area, one of the same design that plagued her slumber the random night from fifteen months of age onwards.

The headmaster's body had blasted upwards into the air to plummet forthright. Her spell had lifted then, but she still couldn't flinch a muscle.


End file.
